


Who Are You Now?

by Celestia_Light_of_the_Galaxy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, The Batman (Cartoon), Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce might need a hug even more, Dick needs a hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Psychological Trauma, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestia_Light_of_the_Galaxy/pseuds/Celestia_Light_of_the_Galaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its been two years since Batman was forced to make an impossible decision, his city or his partner. Unfortunately, his partner didn't give him much choice. Now, a new villain has arisen, one that seems all too familiar for Bruce's likening. In order to take him down, he must focus on the one moment in his life he wishes he could forget. Also posted on ff.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first fanfic, so constructive criticism is more than welcome. Hope you enjoy!

Crazed laughter reverberated down the hallways of Arkham Asylum. Batman forced himself to walk on even though he dreaded his final destination.

It had been two years since he had seen this particular inmate. Two years since he had made the decision that broke his heart. Two years since he had first watched that horrifying security tape. Two years since he had seen Dick, the first Robin, sane.

(Flashback)

Bruce rewound the tape again looking for a flaw or anything that would prove the tape untrue, but there was nothing. It was the real Robin on that screen. Dick had killed those people. His son was a murderer.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Light footsteps echoed down the long staircase that led down to the Batcave.

Bruce froze the video on a frame of Robin standing over his victim, his hands stained with blood, and a crazed smile haunting his face.

Bruce turned, expecting to find his son as equally horrified by the slaughter as he was. But instead Robin's face was contented, smug even.

Dick looked at Bruce's expression and his lips quirked up into a satanic smile.

"Proud of me?"

(End of Flashback)

Batman stood before the door to cell HS7, high security cell 7. The room was silent, but then Robin had always been pretty quiet.

How could he do this? How was he supposed to talk to the son that he had placed in this hell hole? Despite everything the former Robin, now going by the name Renegade for his own safety, had done he still loved the boy. Only a father was capable of that.

He nodded to the two guards on duty outside the cell and one of them entered in the code on the DNA sensitive keypad. Only a soft click indicated that the door had unlocked. Batman took a deep breath in order to steady his nerves and walked inside.

*Click* The door closed and relocked behind him.

It was just Batman now.

Just Batman and a shadow-obscured figure rising up from the small bed in the corner.


	2. Hello Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has a long overdue chat with his son.

(Bruce’s P.O.V)

The cell was barren save for a small bed, a sink, and a toilet. The gray walls were padded and the only light shone from a dim, lone lightbulb hanging in the center of the equally gray and padded ceiling.

A lanky figure rose from the simple cot, still standing in the shadows of the dim room.

"Hey Dad"

Batman started a bit at this. Dad? That wasn't one of the names he'd expected the insane son whom he had personally thrown in a mental facility for mad criminals to call him.

"Hello Renegade" Batman said coldly, trying to mask the onslaught of emotions inside him with indifference.

The former Robin flinched, whether at the name or the detached tone with which it was said, Bruce wasn't sure. If Bruce didn't know better he would think that Dick - no, not Dick, Renegade - seemed disappointed. If he was upset, however he didn't show it for long. The villain collected himself quickly and tried to counter Bruce's outward coldness with his own unaffected tone.

"Need something?" Renegade asked casually before flopping back onto the small bed.

"I need to talk to you." A thoroughly confused Batman said bluntly, each trying to match the others' seeming disinterest in the conversation.

"Is that so? What about?"

"The recent string of murders lately."

"Why?"

Now that was the question Bruce had been asking himself since he had pulled up in front of the Asylum. Why?

'Because I want to see my son' his heart told him.

'Because these recent kills mimic his own almost exactly' his brain argued.

But his mouth said "I don't know."

"Hmmm. Have you missed me?" Renegade responded, his uninvolved mask starting to crack, the final words, likely intended as a taunt, came out more hopeful than he probably intended.

Bruce wasn't sure how to respond. He had missed his son. He had missed him terribly. Missed flying through Gotham with his brightly clad partner by his side. But was this person really his son? Or was he just a shell?

"I don't know." He said again.

Renegade just nodded and didn't answer.

Bruce was confused. The teen wasn't acting at all like he'd expected. Again if he didn't know better, he'd say Renegade seemed upset with how impersonally Bruce was handling this meeting. But what did he expect?

(Flashback)

_"Proud of me?"_

_Bruce just stared at him. Proud? No, no he wasn't proud. Why was Dick so calm, didn't he know that the video was solid evidence? Why wasn't he denying it! Unless..._

_No_

_Bruce shook his head to clear it. He'd come this far and managed to maintain faith that Dick was innocent, even when all the evidence pointed to him._

_No. Dick was innocent, he wouldn't believe otherwise, he wouldn't cross that line, maybe he was framed? Cloned? Imperson-_

_*Slash*_

_Bruce barely pulled himself out of thought fast enough to duck, and the batarang sliced off the tip of his cowl's right ear._

_Bruce was stunned. His hand slowly coming up to feel the rip in his cowl when he had to dodge left to avoid the flying kick Dick had aimed for his head._

_The force of the kick sent Dick crashing into the computer screens behind Bruce sending broken glass flying and electricity coursing over the console._

_With a growl Dick turned to face his mentor, the crazed look in his eyes coupled with the electric flares from the computers behind him, transformed the once innocent boy into something terrifying, something evil._

_'I have to end this now,' Bruce thought, 'before Alfred comes down here, there's no telling what Dick might-'_

_There it was. The line. The line he said he wouldn't cross. He crossed it when he actually believed Dick would hurt Alfred._

_*Wham*_

_Once again Dick had caught Bruce lost in thought. The only reason Bruce had been able to block the punch was due to years of fighting reflexes. He needed to focus, to forget who he was fighting and remember who he was protecting._

_Eyes narrowed, Bruce went on the offense, throwing punches and kicks, driving his opponent back toward the still sparking computer. The cave faded away along with his thoughts as he fell into a rhythm - punch, kick, dodge, feint, block._

_Yet no matter how much he tried to block it out, he just couldn't bring himself to completely forget who he was fighting. He couldn't hurt Dick, even now the boy was still his son. But, maybe this plan would keep him from having to inflict any serious pain on his son._

_Closer, closer, closer, NOW!_

_Bruce delivered a particularly forceful kick to the boy's chest sending him flying backwards into the broken computers._

_Aaaaargh!_

_Dick let out an inhuman scream as he hit the destroyed console, electricity racing through him until his body fell limp and he dropped to the floor. Just before he fell unconscious, he raised his head and fixed Bruce with his electric blue gaze, once full on joy now colder than Mr. Freeze's suit. He moved his mouth but no sound came out before his eyes rolled back and his head dropped to the floor._

_This was one time Bruce wished he wasn't so good at reading lips._

_Bruce stood over the crumpled form of his son. There was no question about it anymore, Dick was guilty. Bruce still wasn't sure how or why but he knew he couldn't deny it anymore. Couldn't protect Dick from his fate no matter how much he wanted to._

_Bruce hadn't felt this helpless since that night in a crime alley when he was eight._

_There, standing over his unconscious, protege-turned-villain Bruce felt like that eight-year-old child again, and just like he had all those years ago, with Dick's last words ringing in his ears, he cried._

_"This isn't over"_

* * *

 

_Bruce cuffed and blindfolded Dick as soon as he composed himself. Just this once it had been good to let his emotions out, but it had left him feeling numb._

_Bruce drove to Arkham Asylum in silence, not even looking at the bound, still unconscious, criminal beside him._

_When he arrived at Arkham he handed Dick over as the villain behind the recent killing spree under the name "Renegade" and recommended that he be kept in a high security, solitary cell._

_The guards didn't question him and took Dick, now Renegade, down the hall to his new cell. Part of Bruce wanted to follow, but he just stood there, numb, as they took his son away._

_Eventually he knew he had to leave to report to Commissioner Gordon, so without saying another word he turned, walked out the door, got in the Batmobile, and drove away._

_And didn't return for two years._

(End of Flashback)

The look in Dick's eyes all those years ago haunted Batman even now. Strange that now Renegade's eyes held none of their previous malice. Now they just looked tired.

It took Bruce a while to realize that the two had been standing there just staring at each other for an awkwardly long time, not that this meeting couldn't have gotten much more awkward than it already was.

Batman figured now was as bad a time as any to actually do what he came here for.

He cleared his throat, realizing that there was no easy way to begin this conversation, he just went with the direct approach.

"Renegade, who are you working with?"

Renegade, cocked his head, a move that reminded Bruce far to much of the old Dick for his liking. Dick opened his mouth to answer-

*Zap*

When the shock collar around his neck turned on.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" Renegade screamed through gritted teeth and fell to the floor in a convulsing heap.

The image of Dick writhing against the computer console two years ago forced its way into Batman's mind.

Bruce looked around apprehensively and was poised ready to attack when the door opened slowly.

"Oh! Batman! Sorry didn't know you were in here, or we wouldn't have used the collar." Said the surprised orderly with a tray in his hand.

"Why do you use it at all?!" Narrowed eye lenses were the only indication of Batman's anger.

Bruce on the other hand was very angry, all feelings of resentment he had for Renegade vanished and were replaced by his fatherly instinct at seeing his son hurt.

"To keep him from attacking whenever anyone comes in."

"He has attacked people?"

"No... but that's thanks to the collar." The orderly quickly explained before setting Dick's tray on the floor and exiting quickly.

Batman shook his head in disgust before turning his attention back to Renegade, who sat panting and shivering on the floor.

Bruce approached him with caution. Like one would approach a wounded animal.

Renegade flinched when Batman rested a hand on his shoulder. Both sat frozen for a second, Bruce afraid that the boy would snap at any physical contact from him. But, he didn't resist, in fact he wrapped his arms around Batman's torso, buried his head in his shoulder, and sobbed. Caught off guard by Dick's actions, Bruce just stayed kneeling, stiff and unmoving. When his mind finally caught up with what was happening he proceeded to wrap arms around his former protege; supporting them both as he stroked Dick's hair and back. Eventually he settled Dick in his lap. Still holding his son close he wrapped his trembling frame in the wings of his cape.

It was then that Batman's resolve began to collapse and Bruce the father began to brake through. He was reminded why he had ordered Dick placed in a solitary confinement, high security cell. In part to protect Gotham from him but also to protect him from the other criminals there who had a bone to pick with the former Robin.

Batman had gone over the evidence for a solid year after the incident. Each time hoping to find something new, something that would change the facts, prove Dick's innocence. He neglected his duties as Batman, neglected his duties as Bruce Wayne to the point that even Alfred had to tell him to stop. He remembered clearly the day he truly gave up. The day he had to accept that Robin was no more and only Renegade remained.

It was because of that last thought that Bruce had agreed that Arkham was the only place to send the former Boy Wonder. But here was Dick, not Renegade, Dick sobbing into his chest like there was no tomorrow. The few understandable words being things like "help me... daddy... home... don't leave... alone."

Something was wrong here, very wrong.

Bruce had missed something, something important while reviewing the evidence, otherwise Dick wouldn't be sitting here, shaking in his arms.

He had been wrong.

Wrong.

And Dick had paid the price. Unless... this was all a ruse, an elaborate trap to get Bruce to believe Dick was innocent. But... no he couldn't be, Bruce had seen the tape, reviewed the evidence, Renegade was guilty. Bruce had accepted that a long time ago he couldn't keep going back and forth even if-

"Daddy?"

Bruce looked down to where his son's head had just poked out from under his cape, tears still running from his brilliant blue eyes and spilling down his face.

"Yes." he hated how cold he sounded. But it was all he could do to keep the feelings that were threatening to tear him apart.

"Please. Don't. Leave me." Dick pleaded his haunted eyes staring up at Bruce.

"I won't son. I'm taking you out of here. I'll figure something out." Bruce promised stroking his son's tangled raven hair.

Dick nodded before slumping against Bruce, clearly exhausted.

"Do you not sleep well?" Bruce asked the father in him growing more and more concerned.

"I never do. It's hard to fall asleep with all of the crazy laughter and noises, and when I do get to sleep I have nightmares." Dick mumbled wrapping the cape tighter around himself as he burrowed deeper into his father's armored chest.

"Go ahead and sleep I'm not going to disappear."

"m'kay" Dick yawned before closing his eyes and completely relaxing into Bruce's arms.

Bruce waited until he heard Richard's breathing become deep and even to signal that he was fast asleep before giving the boy a more thorough examination, not entirely sure what he was looking for.

Upon closer inspection Bruce was horrified to find that his son was clearly malnourished and dehydrated, he was slightly warm to the touch but shivered due to the chill in the rooms air (he was equally upset to find that the small bed only had one thin blanket that he guessed did little to help one keep warm. But the worst came when Bruce shifted the collar up a bit on Richard's neck to reveal the hideous black and purple bruising that encircled his neck from where the collar had been used too often, too harshly.

While Dick was still shaking slightly due to the cold, Bruce also started shaking due to the rage building up inside of him at the treatment of his son.

He had left Dick there under the assumption that he would be treated well and taken care of. Obviously that was not the case.

If Bruce had any doubts about taking Dick away from Arkham he didn't now. He was going to take Dick out of this torture chamber and bring him home where he belonged.

He and Alfred could take care of him, and he could monitor him more closely, perhaps learn something by observing that he couldn't learn from questions.

Regardless of what he had done in his past, Dick was still his son, Bruce had been a fool to forget that and would do anything to fix his mistake.

Anything.


	3. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce brings Dick home, for better or worse.

Just as before, Bruce had to restrain the now sleeping Dick before placing him in the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

' _What am I doing?_ ' he thought as he drove away from Arkham, the possibility that Dick's sudden character change was just a ruse stayed firm in his mind. What was he thinking taking the boy out of Arkham? His earlier resolve on the subject was beginning to fade. Maybe it would be better if he...

No.

Stop thinking like that.

Bruce pulled the Batmobile over and leaned his seat back a bit. He pulled his cowl down to rub his temples. Letting out a slow, calming breath he turned his gaze back to the sleeping teen beside him.

Dick had gotten taller, about three or four inches, since he was fifteen. His shoulders had broadened a bit too, but his overall frame was still much too thin. Of course, he chuckled, with a cook like Alfred in the house...

Shit.

How was he supposed to explain this to Alfred?

This whole business with Dick had hit the old butler the hardest. The old man had thought of the boy as his own grandson, this whole affair... had really crushed his spirit.

Several times Bruce had caught Alfred standing outside the closed door to Dick's former room, dust cloth in hand, as if debating whether or not to keep the room maintained.

Immediately following Renegade's admittance to Arkham, Bruce had searched Dick's room thoroughly. Going through every drawer, paper, and computer file hoping to find something to tell him the all the evidence he'd collected was wrong. He'd come up empty every time.

Well, not empty exactly. He'd found countless small things, photos, notes that had made the whole situation even more difficult: his first Robin mask, a half-finnished love note to Zatanna, a picture of a thirteen year old Dick smiling at the camera along with a wincing Artemis?

One of the worst though had been a picture he found buried in an old notebook - a picture of Dick, taken back when he was nine, right before his first patrol. Bruce had stared at that photo for a long time wondering how such an innocent child could've changed so much. Finally, he placed the picture back in the notebook, and left the room.

Bruce was pulled out of his musings by a soft groan coming from his right. Shaking his head slightly to clear it. He worried Dick was waking up, but the teen simply shifted slightly before sinking back into the seat still asleep.

Still asleep, but not for much longer. Luckily they weren't far from the cave, about ten more minutes until he could... what?

He still didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to do with Dick when he reached the manor, or what he was going to tell Alfred, or-

_Dick shifted again. Okay, just get Dick to the cave, I can keep him in one of the cells until I figure out if he can be trusted._

It wasn't the greatest plan he could've thought of, but he didn't have much time to think of a better one.

* * *

 

Thankfully, Alfred wasn't waiting there waiting when Bruce pulled into the cave.

Bruce gently unstrapped Dick from the seat and carried him down to the lower levels of the cave. There he placed his still sleeping son on the simple bed installed in the small 10 x 10ft cell. Besides the bed, the cell held a small sink, toilet, table, and two chairs which were bolted to the ground.

The room wasn't much, and the father in Bruce absolutely detested keeping Dick in a cell, but their wasn't much else he could do until he knew for a fact Dick wasn't going to revert back to his previous... misdeeds.

Bruce shook his head, he'd zoned out enough for one day. For now he busied himself finding Dick a warmer blanket than the one already on the bed before climbing the steps out of the cave to the main part of the manor.

Listening closely outside the door to the kitchen, Bruce assumed Alfred had gone to bed. Good, he couldn't even begin to think about what he was going to tell his butler.

Head starting to ache, Bruce rummaged around in the refrigerator for something he could heat up. He eventually found a bowl of soup which he put in the microwave for a bit while he looked for something to supplement it. It took a bit of rummaging but he eventually found what he was looking for, a plate of Alfred's famous chocolate-chip cookies.

Just then the microwave hummed softly, so Bruce took two of the cookies and set them on a tray along with the soup and a glass of water for Dick, as well as a mug of coffee he desperately needed. Armed with the tray, Bruce descended back down to the cave.

* * *

 

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick was just waking up when Bruce, who'd stopped by the main computer to pick up a file, walked back thorough the cell door.

"W-where am I?"

He looked around, confused as to why he wasn't in Arkham.

The last thing he remembered was some crazy dream about Batman coming to see- oh.

That would be Batman.

Sitting in a chair.

With food!

_It's not real_

And there were the voices again, they never did shut up for long.

Well real or not, Bruce was here, with food, and that was good enough for Dick.

Dick climbed out of the bed and joined Bruce at the table. Bruce pushed the tray toward Dick who didn't need any encouragement to start wolfing it down.

 _Didn't I read somewhere that you can't taste anything in a dream?_ Dick wondered.

However his empty stomach couldn't care less what he'd read and he found himself finishing the soup far faster than he would've liked.

Bruce hadn't said a word yet, just patiently watched him eat until he finished his soup.

Dick looked up, now that the soup was gone he suddenly realized just how strange this whole situation was.

Still unsure if he was dreaming or not he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Need something."

Bruce's eyebrows raised, but he pushed the plate of cookies toward Dick before placing a file on the table.

Now it was Dick's turn to raise his eyebrows, "umm what's that?" he asked before taking a bite of one of the proffered cookies only to widen his eyes in shock.

Alfred? Only one person makes cookies like these.

_He's forgotten about you_

For some reason he felt himself tear up slightly, he wasn't sure why and he blinked quickly to stop.

"Renegade"

Dick's head snapped up.

"Now that you're... settled, perhaps we can continue our earlier conversation?"

_Kill him_

Dick's forehead creased, "What earlier conversation?"

Bruce sighed and tapped the folder, "perhaps we should just start at the beginning."

He pulled out several pictures, each depicting a body, or what was left of one.

Dick's eyes widened, from what remained of their faces, each of the people had died in terror.

_You enjoyed it_

Slowly, he started to flip through the photos looking for a pattern.

A young man in the traditional dark alleyway.

An older woman by the river.

A teen right in front of what seemed to be the boy's own apartment.

Another young man outside a gas station.

A pretty young girl by the bus station.

There were about thirteen victims in total, with no seeming relationship between them.

Different locations.

A middle-aged woman on a rooftop.

Different ages.

An old man in the park.

Different groups.

A couple of newly-weds by the shore of a lake.

No similarities... except one, how they died if the notes on the backs of the photos were to be believed.

Pre-mortem inflicted wounds: Various bruises and abrasions, exactly thirteen stab wounds (two to each arm, two to each leg, two to both sides of the ribcage with those on the left avoiding the heart, one to the stomach), bruising around the neck suggesting strangulation, lethal amounts of pancuronium bromide and potassium chloride in the bloodstream.

Post-mortem inflicted wounds: 3rd degree burns to the face, ending just above the strangulation marks.

Dick flipped through the last few photos each one more nauseating than the last.

A little girl in her back yard.

But the last one was most shocking.

A mother and a child, in the middle of Gotham City square.

The child couldn't be more than a year old.

_Beautiful_

*plip*

A single tear hit the photo.

Dick looked up, confused as to who was crying. It took him a moment to realize it was him.

* * *

 

 

(Bruce's P.O.V)

Bruce knew he had to stop when the first tear hit the photo.

Reaching over the table, he gently pried it from Dick's shaking hand and placed it back onto the table. Looking back at the figure across from him he searched for something to say. He settled for the direct approach.

"Anything seem familiar?"

It took Dick a little while to meet his eyes, he held Bruce's gaze for a little while, before lowering his head back down.

"I don't know"

"That's not an answer"

"I know"

"Well?"

"What do you want me to say?" Dick finally raised his head again some of the life returning to his eyes.

"The truth would be nice," Bruce raised his voice a little, his headache had steadily grown from a dull ache to a harsh throb.

"That is the truth! I don't know!" Dick's anger finally got the best of him and he stood up quickly, only to sink back down again when his overtaxed body protested.

Bruce let out a deep breath to calm himself.

It didn't work.

"Renegade-

"Don't call me that."

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Renegade is what they called me, my name is Dick."

Bruce let out another deep breath, _'I need to end this soon_ ,' he thought, ' _neither of us are able to focus on this like we should_.'

"Okay... Dick, tell me honestly that none of these photos seem even the least bit familiar."

Dick half-heartedly glanced over the photos again. His eyes came to rest on the last one, the one of the mother and child.

"That one," he tapped it with his index finger, "that's the one you had on the screen that night in the cave isn't it?"

"Yes," Bruce confirmed, "and the rest?"

"Shut up"

"What?"

"Not you" Dick mumbled, rubbing his temples. "Like I said I don't know." He squinted at the pictures. "They seem... hazy. Like a dream you just can't remember the details of. Or... or something..."

He was drifting off, Bruce wasn't going to get anything more out of him tonight.

"Alright, that's enough for now. Get some sleep."

Dick didn't need any encouragement. The boy's head lulled to the side and his breathing was starting to slow.

Bruce stood up and walked to the other side of the table. He reached for Dick's arm but pulled back when he flinched away.

 _Well what did I expect_? he thought before pushing those thoughts away, they weren't going to help anyone.

Steeling himself, Bruce reached out and wrapped Dick's arm around his shoulders, pretending he didn't feel the second flinch. Then he put his other free hand around Dick's waist, then he proceeded to half-drag, half-carry the boy back to the bed.

He put Dick down gently before picking up the covers and proceeding to tuck them securely around the boy. For a moment he was struck with a sense of deja vu. Memories of tucking a young Robin into bed after long patrols flooded his mind.

He shook his head. This was nothing like that. This was Renegade not Robin. A killer, or a former one at least.

Still, it was hard to see the murderer in the sleeping face before him.

Before he realized what he was doing, Bruce ran a fond hand through Dick's tangled, raven hair, no flinch this time, and kissed the boy gently on the forehead.

"Goodnight Dick" he whispered, before turning to leave the cell.

On his way out he picked up the pictures on the table and carefully returned them to the file. His eyes lingered on the last one, the one that had caused such an emotional outburst from the former Robin. As much as he wanted to, he just wasn't ready to accept his answer just yet. Once he had believed in Dick's innocence more than anyone. The day he finally gave that up, was one of the hardest of his life. He looked back at the bruises around Dick's neck. If he accepted once again that Dick was innocent, then all the pain he had suffered, all the time they had lost, would be for nothing. And what's worse...

It would be all his fault.

But all the evidence, the tape, the confession! For heaven's sake Bruce had received a written confession from Dick less than a year after admitting him to Arkham. Commissioner Gordon called shortly after he found picture of Dick's first day as Robin. Batman had picked up the full written confession not an hour later, and had read it countless times since. It wasn't a forgery.

Bruce held the folder loosely in his hand as he walked back up to the computer console. On the screen were five images. Every detail matched the first five photos in the file: location, gender, cause of death. The only difference was that the first of these murders took place two weeks ago, instead of two years. Maybe-

Bruce's headache spiked again, interrupting his thoughts.

 _This will have to wait until morning_ , he thought looking a the clock.

3:43 AM

Tired and more confused than ever, Bruce quickly changed out of his suit, climbed the steps to Wayne Manor, went straight to bed, and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.

Dick was not so fortunate...

* * *

 

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick was alone.

Cold.

Hungry. He almost wished the collar would come on again, as it signaled that food was coming.

_No one's coming_

The voices.

His only companion, aside from his psychiatrist Dr. Strange.

He'd been hearing them for as long as he could remember, which wasn't all that clear.

He remembered before he came to Arkham, although he tried not to think about it often, and most of his time in Arkham, though their wasn't much to remember there.

_Renegade_

But the biggest mystery in his life was that time right before Arkham. He had some vague memories - snippets of conversations, and the occasional image of a person's face - but for the most part, that part of his life was hazy.

He would have nightmares, but he rarely remembered those either. They were just faces, lots of different faces, and screaming.

The screaming never stopped. Sometimes it was other prisoners, sometimes it was the faces, and sometimes it was just him.

Dr. Strange told him it was normal. The memories, the voices, and the screaming were all normal for someone in his condition.

_Kill him_

His condition.

What a nice way of putting it.

_Renegade_

He was insane, and a murderer if the voices were to be believed.

The voices.

_You killed them_

The hunger.

_You deserve this_

The laughter.

_You killed them_

The screaming.

_Murderer_

The blood.

_You killed them_

The faces.

_You enjoyed it_

The lightning.

_Renegade_

NO!

Dick awoke with a start.

He wasn't in Arkham anymore, he was back in the Batcave.

Even after two years, the cave still felt familiar. The soft bat chirps and cool temperature helped to calm Dick's fevered mind.

He slowly untangled himself from the sheets and walked shakily over to the sink.

Bracing himself with both hands, he leaned over the basin taking deep breaths to slow his heart rate.

After a few minuets he turned on the sink and cupped his hands under the faucet. The cool water helped soothe his scratchy throat, and he splashed some onto his face to wash away some of the sweat.

_You're weak_

He was insane, he knew it, only insane people hear voices.

Better yet, only insane people believed them.

Dick slowly made his way back to the bed where he curled up, pressing his hands over his ears.

_You're pathetic_

"I know" Dick whispered.

And with that thought, he uncovered his ears...

and cried.

* * *

 

(Meanwhile across town)

A yellow clad figure stood on a rooftop of an apartment building staring down at the burning face of the woman before him.

The flames reflected eerily off of the red lightning bolt on his chest.

"Six down, seven to go."

Smiling the figure turned and began to make his way off the roof, but not before reaching down and plucking the woman's necklace from her neck.

"Souvenir"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah the great Batman, his only weaknesses being cooking and human interaction. Although in his defense, I think any parent left alone with their serial killer child would probably act a little strange, so we'll have to forgive Bruce.
> 
> This chapter was a monster to write. About halfway through it took off in a completely different direction than I originally intended. Then my computer crashed at about 2,000 words and I had to try to remember what I'd written before.
> 
> For those of you who don't know pancuronium bromide and potassium chloride are two of the three chemicals used in the standard lethal injection, PB causes muscle paralysis and respiratory arrest, and PC stops the heart. I intentionally left out Sodium thiopental because it causes unconsciousness.
> 
> Again thank you all soooooo much for reading, I hope you come back for the next chapter! For all those who review Dick saved you some of Alfred's cookies! How can you turn that down?
> 
> Until next time!


	4. My Grandson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred finds Dick down in the Batcave. His reaction? Not happy.

(Alfred's P.O.V)

Alfred awoke promptly at 6:00 AM, as he did every morning.

It was Sunday morning so his schedule was slightly different than normal as he did not need to wake Master Bruce so early for work.

Sitting up and putting on his slippers, Alfred walked over to his closet and dressed in one of his well tailored butler uniforms (A/N: Is there a specific name for Alfred's clothes?).

Alfred quickly performed the rest of his morning routine before exiting his room and moving on to the kitchen to start breakfast.

As he pulled out various pots and ingredients from their places he was once again struck by how quiet the manor was. Funny, a few years ago, Alfred had treasured his peaceful mornings in the kitchen, before Master Bruce and Dick woke up. Nowadays though, the manor was far too quiet.

Two years ago, a terrible incident had occurred involving the young master, and the manor had not been the same since. The boy had been the heart of the household ever since he arrived as a young boy. Since then, Alfred had come to love the boy as his own grandson, and had many memories of him in this very kitchen.

Alfred pulled a fresh pan of sausage out of the oven, placing them on a plate before picking up a spatula to flip the pancakes on the stove.

(Flashback)

_A ten year old Dick stood in the kitchen, spatula in hand, eyes focused, staring intently down at the cooking pancakes in front of him._

_Alfred couldn't help but chuckle a bit inwardly. Master Dick had been learning how to flip pancakes, but he took to the task with the seriousness of fighting the Joker._

_A seriousness that was slightly hurt by the pancake batter splattered quite literally all around him. Apparently flipping pancakes was not the cleanest thing to learn._

_"Now Master Dick, simply slide the spatula underneath the pancake and flip your wrist gently."_

_Dick nodded as he once again slipped the spatula under the bubbling pancake._

_Concentrating, he proceeded to flick his wrist jest enough to lift the pancake about an inch off the spatula before splattering back into the pan._

_"Nuts," Dick wiped his face with a dish towel where some of the batter had splattered._

_"I admire your willingness to experiment Master Dick, I don't believe science has yet experimented with pancake shampoo."_

_"You don't say, Alfred." Dick said dryly putting the towel back down._

_"Try again," Alfred encouraged "with a bit more force this time."_

_"Okay." Dick picked up the spatula, slipped it under a different pancake, and flicked his wrist with more force._

_A lot more force._

_The pancake flew over Dick's head and landed with a splat- -right on top of a scowling Bruce Wayne's head._

_Dick and Alfred just stood there for a moment, staring as Bruce slowly pulled the half cooked pancake off his head._

_"Should I ask?"_

_At the broken silence, Dick burst out laughing and even Alfred chuckled a bit._

_"Sorry Bruce, too much wrist, I guess."_

_"Indeed," Bruce surveyed the pancake covered kitchen, "what are you doing in here anyway, this place is a mess."_

_Alfred spoke up, "I was just showing Master Dick how to properly flip pancakes, but he seems to have it in his head that the batter would work better as a shampoo than a breakfast."_

_"I see," Bruce muttered, still trying to clean the sticky, yellow goo from his hair._

_"Yes, he has a theory that the combination of baking soda and egg will improve hair growth and shine."_

_"In that case, maybe you could use some too." Bruce muttered turning away to go shower._

_"What was that Master Bruce?" Alfred asked with a raised eyebrow. "_

_Uh, nothing Alfred, I just said maybe you could use my help in the kitchen too."_

_"Ahh, well thank you for the offer, but I do believe I've had enough help for one day." Alfred smiled as he surveyed the destroyed kitchen._

_"I'll help you clean up Alfred," Dick offer," after all I made most of this mess."_

_"Never apologize for the fruits of hard work Master Dick, but yes, I would appreciate your help putting everything bace to its proper place."_

(End of Fashback)

Alfred sighed as he placed the finished stack of pancakes onto a plate. He hadn't thought of that day in a while, lately he'd tried not to think of anything that reminded him of Master Dick.

He had kept cleaning his room though, that was one thing he just couldn't bring himself to stop. He wasn't sure if Master Bruce was aware, nor was he was not sure how he would react so he didn't mention it too him.

Master Bruce hadn't been the same since the young master... changed. He slept less, ate less, certainly laughed less. However, the biggest change had been in his work as the Batman. The day Master Bruce left his own son to Arkham, Batman had gone on a rampage. He interrogated every criminal in Gotham, from Joker to Catwoman, on the murders, neglecting almost every other case. He was certain his son had been framed. He would go for days without sleeping, rarely ever leaving the cave, watching that video, reviewing evidence, searching the boy's room, looking for anything he might have missed.

He came up empty every time.

He'd become so obsessed with proving Dick's innocence that it was six months before he realized he hadn't gone to see Dick since.

However, when he called Arkham to check on 'Renegade's' progress, he was told that the boy was in a critical part of his treatment, and that the psychologist believed any outside contact, especially, from Batman would do serious harm to his mental state.

So, for Dick's sake, Master Bruce stayed away.

Alfred knew for a fact Master Bruce regretted that decision more than anything, perhaps he thought that if he had gone to see him, talked to him, then things wouldn't have turned out as they did.

It took a full year for Master Bruce to come to his senses. To realize that he had a city to protect, and this pointless searching wasn't going to bring Dick back to him.

The day he gave up on Dick's innocence was a dark day for Gotham. The Batman went on a tear that ended almost every criminal he met in the hospital with serious wounds. Ever since, the Batman had gotten more violent, even the press had commented on it.

Alfred had tried to keep some of the life in the manor, but Master Bruce had descended back into the darkness he had lived in before the young acrobat came to the manor and this time, the english butler had no idea how to pull him out of it. So he stuck to his routine and tried to maintain a sense of normalcy in the household, seeking to provide comfort wherever he could.

Pushing away the memories of those dark days, Alfred placed the finished breakfast in the oven to keep it warm whilst he waited for Master Bruce to awaken.

Alfred decided to check the Batcave to make sure Master Bruce wasn't pulling one of his famous all-nighters again.

Of course, when he got down to the cave he saw that Master Bruce was not at the computer console nor anywhere else. He couldn't hear anything either, nothing but the occasional drip of water and the squeaking of bats.

Then again, bats don't usually… cry?

Concerned, Alfred followed the strange whimpering sounds down to the lower levels of the cave. Yet, as he drew closer and to the holding cells, he started to doubt his mission. If Batman had some villain imprisoned down here, then Alfred should stay away lest he give away Batman's true identity. But, something about the desperate sounds below him, something lost, urged him on.

Trying to remain undetected, just in case, Alfred peeked around the corner only to discover the sounds were indeed coming from a small lump on the bed.

The person's back was to Alfred so he left the shadows to get a better look. As he drew closer, the small whimpers tuned into words.

"It's not real, it's not real, it's not real"

That voice. Alfred recognized that voice. It was the voice of a small child whom he comforted after nightmares.

It was Master Richard.

Before he could think, he was inside the cell, sitting next to the shivering lump on the bed.

"Master Richard?"

He gently placed a hand on the boy's back, trying to calm him to the point of coherency.

"Master Richard, are you alright?"

Dick didn't give any indication that he knew Alfred was even there. He just pressed his hands against his ears harder, his words gaining an edge of hysteria.

"It's not real. It's not real."

Alfred was at a loss as to what to do, and began to have serious doubts about whether or not he should be there.

"I assure you Master Dick, I am quite real. Perhaps you should take some deep breaths."

Alfred wasn't sure if it was his words or the calming hand on his back, but slowly Dick began to uncover his ears and his sobs began to give way to hiccups.

Slowly he turned his head, blue eyes wet and puffy.

"A-Alfie?"

"Yes Master Dick, I'm right here."

"Where? Where am I?"

Now Alfred was worried, placing his hand to the boy's forehead, he found it burning with fever.

Realizing the boy was still waiting for an answer, Alfred huridly picked up the abandoned blanket from it's place on the bed and wrapped it around Dick's shivering frame.

"You're home Master Dick, you need to relax."

"H-home?" Dick shifted closer to Alfred. "W-where's *hic* Bruce?"

Now that is an excellent question, Alfred thought. Where was Master Bruce? Why did he leave Master Dick all alone in the cave when he was obviously sick? Furthermore, why was Master Dick here at all?

A small movement next to him pulled Alfred from his thoughts as Dick's head slowly dropped so that it rested on Alfred's lap, body still twitching with the occasional hiccup or whimper.

Well, one thing's for certain, Alfred was taking him out of this cell immediately and up to a room where he could care for the boy properly.

Wrapping one of Dick's arms around his shoulders and placing his own arm around the fevered teen's waist. Alfred stood, which thankfully roused Master Dick just enough to walk with Alfred to the elevator and up to the manor.

Still no sign of Master Bruce, Alfred brought the boy to the stairs and began the long climb up.

"Alfred!"

The stately butler did not jump, although he probably would have if his companion hadn't chosen that moment to go limp at his side, putting all his weight on Alfred.

Alfred raised his head to meet the eyes of his longtime employer and friend, who was staring back with icy blue eyes.

"What, exactly, do you think you're doing?"

Alfred's eyes narrowed at the tone, "merely taking the young master upstairs to rest in a proper room." He continued up the stairs, past Bruce.

"Alfred-"

"I will speak with you in a minute, Master Bruce."

Alfred turned to continue his struggle up the stairs when all of a sudden, his burden lightened considerably. Thinking Master Dick had reawakened, Alfred looked to his right only to find the boy still unconscious. Instead, Master Bruce had come up behind them and put Dick's other arm around his shoulders, taking most of the wait.

Neither one said anything, the only sounds were their footsteps and Dick's labored breathing.

With Master Bruce's help, it only took about five minutes to get the boy into his old bedroom. Alfred tucked him in before going and getting a cool washcloth to put on the boy's forehead. Master Bruce returning to stand awkwardly in the doorway until Alfred was satisfied and left the boy to rest, closing the door behind him.

Alfred faced Bruce with his arms crossed, fixing him with a glare that could make grown men remember every infraction of the rules they had committed since the age of six.

"Now Master Bruce, I want to know what you were thinking, keeping a sick boy in a jail cell and not informing me of his presence."

Bruce swallowed thickly, but before he could answer Alfred interrupted with one last question.

"And why did you take him out of Arkham in the first place?"

Bruce raised his eyes, "that I can answer, I went to interview him yesterday over the recent string of murders."

"I thought you said they were unrelated."

"I didn't think so, but now I can't rule out any possibilities, plus the victims appear to be identical in every way. Anyway, I went to see him and he was... like that. I-I couldn't in good conscience leave him there."

"But you can, in good conscience, leave him alone in a cell meant for a criminal down in that God forsaken cave!"

"What was I supposed to do Alfred! He's a murderer, or... was at least."

(Flashback)

_Alfred stood watching Master Bruce at the Batcave computer, once again reviewing the evidence from the latest string of horrific murders._

_Right now, Bruce had the computer running a DNA test on the skin flakes he found underneath the most recent victim's fingernails. A young mother, who'd apparently died trying to protect her three-month-old son. She hadn't been able to save her son, but by fighting like she did, she succeeded in giving Batman solid proof of who killed her._

_Alfred walked closer to vigilante taking in his disheveled appearance - rugged chin, dirty hair, and dark bags under his eyes. This case was really taking it's toll on Master Bruce. He stayed up terribly late, and sometimes didn't sleep at all, trying to find a lead in this case._

_"Anything Master Bruce?"_

_"We'll know when the results come in from that test Alfred."_

_As if on cue, the computer beeped and a synthesized voice came out of the speakers._

_"DNA test completed. Conduct search for a match?"_

_Bruce clicked 'yes' on the computer screen and they both waited with baited breath for the loading bar to fill._

_The computer beeped once again, "match found."_

_Both parties watched the computer, but their hopeful expressions melted into disbelief and horror quickly upon seeing the image and name on the screen._

_"Impossible," Master Bruce's eyes were wide "their must be a glitch in the program."_

_"Of course sir"_

_"I'll get to the bottom of this Alfred, don't worry. Why don't you go to bed?"_

_Alfred was reluctant to go, but figured a bit of sleep couldn't hurt. Perhaps this whole situation would make more sense in the morning._

_Just then the computer beeped again._

_"Incoming video file, Unknown sender"_

_Alfred moved to stay, but Bruce stopped him._

_"Go on Alfred, I'll look this over and get back to you in the morning."_

_"Very well, goodnight Master Bruce, try to get some sleep yourself."_

_With that, Alfred turned and walked up the stairs._

_As he exited the cave he narrowly avoided running in to Master Dick who was just about to come through the door._

_"Master Dick, what are you doing down here so late?" Alfred tried to keep his voice neutral, not letting any of his earlier shock affect his tone._

_"Oh, I was just putting this back," he explained indicating his utility belt still around his waist. "I was experimenting with ways to conceal it better under civilian clothing without having to carry that duffel bag around. Didn't work out too well so I'm just going to put it back with the rest of my costume."_

_"Oh I see, well I'm not sure Master Bruce wishes to be disturbed right now." Alfred thought back to their most recent piece of 'evidence.'_

_"It's okay Alfie, I'll be quick. He won't even know I'm there."_

_"Very well then Master Dick, but hurry."_

_"Thanks Alfie" Dick smiled and walked past Alfred into the cave._

_As he passed, Alfred laid a hand on his shoulder, "you know Master Bruce is very proud of your devotion to the city."_

_Dick gave him an odd look at the random compliment but smiled nonetheless. "Yes Alfred, I know." With that he continued down the stairs._

_But Alfred had seen what he needed, stalling the boy to get a better look, there were three not too deep scratches on his upper arm, visible once Alfred raised his shirt sleeve a bit, that looked suspiciously like..._

_...fingernail scratches._

_A coincidence, it had to be. Master Dick could have gotten those scratches any number of ways. Shaking his head, Alfred continued to his room._

_If only he had known, perhaps they could've avoided what happened next._

_"Proud of me?"_

(End of Flashback)

Alfred said nothing.

"Look, I don't know what else to do Alfred. He's my son and I love him, but I just can't trust him right now. I can't figure out what's going on. At best he's insane, and at worst this is all an act and he's going to disappear the moment I turn my back!"

The two stood staring at each other for a while, neither knowing what to say.

Finally, Alfred broke the silence.

"Well Master Bruce, while I cannot tell you what to do about all those questions I can answer this one with certainty." He paused to ensure that Master Bruce was listening. "No grandson of mine will ever stay in a cell at Wayne Manor as long as I am here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read and/or left kudos! Seriously, I don't think people realize just how much of my motivation comes from you guys. So thank you!


	5. Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, but the next chapter shouldn't take so long.

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside his window.

Soaked in sweat, Dick tried to untangle himself from the mass of sheets. He realized he didn't feel nearly as cold as he did earlier, his fever must've broken during the night.

Looking around, Dick took in his new accommodations with a mixture of joy and sadness. It couldn't be his old room, he never thought he'd see this place again, yet here it was. Nothing had changed, the walls were the same color, and every picture and knickknack was in its place. But the room couldn't have simply been left alone for there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere that Dick could see, not to mention the sheets were fresh.

At that Dick gave a small smile, good old Alfred.

_Kill him._

The smile faded, honestly, was Dick ever going to find a person that the voice didn't tell him to kill?

Dick reached up and took the still slightly damp cloth off of his forehead, intending to place it on the nightstand. But he was still slightly disoriented from the fever and he dropped it on the floor instead. Sighing he reached down and blindly searched for it.

He jumped slightly when his hand brushed something else, a piece of paper.

Upon closer examination, Dick discovered it was actually a picture, a picture of him on his first night as Robin. Dick studied the photo, thank God Bruce eventually added pants to this, looking at his face. It didn't look like the face of the killer, maybe he really was innocent.

_You killed them._

But he was insane, so could he really trust his own mind anymore?

Not to mention what Bruce had said. Those pictures, there was something about them that seemed... familiar. Almost as if he had seen them somewhere before, if only he could remember...

A blinding headache suddenly dropped him to the floor. You deserve this. Did he? What did he do? He couldn't remember, every time he tried one of these migraines would hit him. What was it Dr. Strange had said? His mind couldn't cope with what his memories were telling him so it had blocked them out or something. Dick honestly didn't remember much from his sessions with Dr. Strange, only a few words here and there.

Rubbing his temples Dick climbed back into bed with a groan, putting his pillow over his head to block out the now overpowering sunlight.

He lay there for what seemed like hours before someone knocked quietly on the door.

"Master Dick? Are you awake?"

Dick peeped his head out from under his pillow just in time to see Alfred crack open the door to check on him.

"Alfred?" Dick was glad to see the butler, and not just because he desperately needed aspirin.

"Good morning, Master Dick, it's good to see you coherent."

"Coherent? What time is it?" Dick asked, pulling his head out a bit more as Alfred placed a tray of food on the nightstand, picking up the discarded cloth as he did so.

"Only 11:30 Master Dick, but yes you've been sick with a fever for about 24 hours now."

Dick tried to push through the haze to remember, he remembered having a short conversation with Bruce, but that was just last night wasn't it?

"B-but didn't I see Bruce last night?" Dick was still trying to ward off the marching band that had taken up residence in his head.

"If by last night you actually mean two nights ago, then you would be correct in that assumption." Alfred called from the bathroom where he'd gone to re-wet the rag.

"I think I remember," Dick mumbled with his face once again buried in the pillow "I had a nightmare or something, but that was down in the cave."

"That's right," Alfred said kindly, lifting the pillow to place the rag back on Dick's forehead, "I found you down there yesterday morning running a fever of 101 degrees and brought you up here to rest."

Dick just nodded and took the cup of water and aspirin Alfred offered. He swallowed that with minimal difficulty when a terrible thought struck him.

"A-Alfred, Bruce! If he finds me up here he's-"

"Master Bruce is already aware sir" Alfred soothed, propping up some pillows for Dick to lean against while he placed the tray in his lap.

Dick looked down at the tray; orange juice, slightly buttered toast, and grits. Good, Dick wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep down anything heavier.

Dick started nibbling on a piece of toast while Alfred told him about his conversation with Bruce.

"It's fortunate that we did move you up here," Alfred explained. "Your fever spiked around noon yesterday, after that you couldn't keep anything down except a bit of water."

For the first time in a while, Dick was happy he couldn't remember something.

_Kill him._

"No," Dick muttered.

"Excuse me Master Dick?"

"Not you," Dick sighed, rubbing his temples again.

 _Maybe I should tell them?_ He wondered. _No! What would they do if they found out?_ Dick shivered, he really didn't want to go back to Arkham. _But he was a murderer, right? What if he... no, he wouldn't. Of course he didn't think he would kill thirteen innocent people either. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he hurt Bruce or Alfred. He had to tell them._

"A-Alfred?"

"Yes Master Dick"

"You... you know I'm... I'm crazy, right?"

Alfred sat down on the bed beside Dick, "What makes you say that?"

Dick swallowed uncomfortably, "well, I- I've been hearing these... voices. And everyone keeps telling me that I killed all those people, but I can't remember doing it! And, and, and... what other explanation is there?!"

Dick's tirade left him panting and shaking. So Alfred put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly to calm him, waiting until he met his eyes.

"Richard John Grayson," Dick started a bit at the use of his full name, "I'm afraid I don't understand what happened to you, neither does Master Bruce. However, I do know that you are a part of this family, and we will do anything necessary to keep from losing you again."

Dick's eyes had teared up slightly during Alfred's speech and he slumped forward to rest his head on Alfred's shoulder.

"Thanks Alfie" he murmured.

"Anytime young Sir." Alfred smiled as he felt the boy yawn. He helped him lay back again, and pulled up the sheets, taking the tray away as well.

Dick slipped back to sleep just as Alfred shut the curtains and closed the door behind him.

* * *

 

(Alfred's P.O.V)

Alfred walked down the stairs, down to Master Bruce's office.

Not bothering to knock, Alfred walked through the large oak doors where he found the billionaire sitting at his desk, surrounded by Wayne Enterprises paperwork, typing.

Alfred cleared his throat as Bruce was clearly engrossed in his work.

Bruce glanced up, "how is he Alfred?"

"He's sleeping now. I did manage to get him to eat something though."

"Good," Bruce kept typing.

"Master Bruce, I believe we need to talk."

Bruce clicked something on the computer and turned to face Alfred. "I'd love to Alfred."

Both stood there for a while, each waiting for the other to start.

Finally Alfred broke the ice, "Exactly what do you think is going on here."

Bruce leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes.

"Well, I don't believe he was faking being sick. Other than that..." he trailed off.

"Master Bruce, while you were down in the cave with him did he say anything about... voices in his head?"

Bruce perked up a bit at that. "He's hearing voices? Well that would explain the cave."

"The cave, Sir?"

"He just started talking to himself, or something."

"He did something similar with me sir."

A heavy silence descended between the two.

Once again, Alfred was the one to break it.

"Sir, you know he thinks he's insane right."

Bruce nodded, a regretful look in his eyes. "Well, at least I didn't have to tell him, Alfred."

"Sir," Alfred was shocked, "you mean you think-"

"Yes Alfred." Bruce interrupted, "it's the only explanation that makes any sense."

"But Sir, you can not believe he murdered those people?!"

Bruce locked eyes with Alfred, "there was never any question about whether or not he murdered those people. Dick killed them Alfred, the evidence was concrete on that point. The question was over whether or not he did it of his own free will."

Alfred couldn't speak, he could barely breathe at the moment. Master Dick was never innocent? He couldn't believe it.

Bruce's cold glare softened a bit and he turned the computer screen around to show Alfred the page he'd been looking at.

**Life at Home with an Insane Child: for those looking for an alternative to institutions**

Underneath the title were stories, tips, instructions, and supportive comments from parents, siblings, and other family members on keeping their loved ones safe at home.

"I've been looking into ways to make it safe for us to keep Dick here at home. You know he's going to need a lot of supervision from now on."

Alfred nodded, his promise to the boy upstairs weighing heavily on his mind. He well remembered their efforts a year ago, when all this had started. They had told the press that Master Dick was visiting family in Romania to explain his absence. Of course, the media would have a circus if they caught wind that Master Dick had returned from his trip in this state. Any changes to the house would need to be kept under wraps and there's absolutely no way they could hire help.

"I'll see that the necessary preparations are made and kept quiet, Sir."

"Thank you Alfred."

* * *

 

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick tossed and turned in his bed, unfortunately sleep seemed determined to elude him.

He would drift off for a few moments, only to awaken again minutes later just as tired as before.

"Ugh, is there anything more frustrating?" he wondered.

_Your constant refusal to do what I say might qualify_

Dick twitched, that was an unusually long sentence for the voice.

"W-what?"

_You wondered if their was anything more frustrating, your constant refusal-_

"I know what I thought," Dick said, "but you don't usually talk to me like that."

_Like what?_

"Umm, I don't know, not insulting me or telling me to kill someone?" Dick could almost laugh at the conversation, if you could call it that, he had really lost it. Of course, while the voice was talking like this he might as well try to get something useful out of it.

"Why do you tell me to kill everyone I meet?"

_Why not?_

"Well, because it's wrong, it's sickening, it goes against everything I believe-"

_You enjoyed it._

"You keep saying that, I'm still not sure what you're talking about."

_You killed them._

"No. No I couldn't have, I would've remembered it."

 _Really?_ The voice had taken on a mocking tone.

"Yes"

_Well then let me open your eyes._

(Flashback)

_Dick lay in wait in a large tree, watching the square below him._

_It was close to 2:15 AM, the perfect hunting time in Gotham. Very few people were out at this time, unless they were up to no good, or had no choice._

_Dick waited, sooner or later someone would come by who peaked his interest._

_Ahh, right there. A young mother was exiting a drug store with a crying child in her arms._

_Perfect._

_He waited until the two passed directly under his tree. Then he dropped._

_The feeling was indescribable._

_Exhilarating_

_The blood._

_Thrilling_

_The screaming._

_Freeing_

_The kill._

_Wonderful_

_Dick stood proudly over his victims, smiling as he surveyed his handiwork. The woman had actually put up more of a fight than he expected, didn't matter though, it only made the job that much more enjoyable._

_Dick pulled a lighter from his utility belt and finished the job quickly, he had to get home soon before Bruce and Alfred noticed he was gone. He took one last look at his work, satisfied, before shooting off a grappling hook and heading back to the manor._

(End of Flashback)

Dick was in shock as the memory faded.

_See, I was right. You enjoyed it, you loved it._

Dick's mind was racing, aggravating his headache. It was all true, everything the voices had told him was true. He had felt those emotions, seen his victims, and performed the kill.

He was a murderer.

_You killed them_

He was insane.

_You loved it_

He was dangerous.

_Now you're getting it_

Dick's breathing increased rapidly, he was panicking. What if he turned on Bruce? What if he hurt Alfred!? What if... what if...

"I-I need to be locked up, away from everyone."

_Well, you were..._

The voice was right, he couldn't hurt anyone locked up in the Batcave. He'd just have to go back down there, where everyone would be safe from him.

_It's a start, Renegade._


	6. Revelations

(Bruce's P.O.V)

Bruce was in the middle of his research when the bat-signal on his phone went off. _Another murder? So soon? They're getting closer together._

He left his office, walking to the grandfather clock in in the living room. As he walked down the stairs to the cave he tried to think of something, anything else the alert could be about besides this case. It didn't matter though, when he clicked the incoming message on the computer there was no mistaking the picture that popped up.

The burned face of a woman, stabbed multiple times, on a rooftop.

Number Six.

Accompanying the pictures were the results of the forensic examination, including estimated time of death.

Two days ago, 11:00 PM.

Bruce slammed his fist down on the desk. 'When is it going to stop?' he raged silently.

Sitting down at the computer, he quickly pulled up the information on Renegade's sixth kill, putting the pictures side by side. Just as he suspected, no differences.

Yet just as with all the other incidents, he began to go through a piece by piece comparison between Renegade's kill and the new crime scene.

Just as before, no differences, down to the last knife wound.

_'This is getting me nowhere,'_ he thought. But then again maybe he wasn't the one missing something. For the first three murders he had gone personally to investigate, unfortunately that just managed to terrify the public more than necessary so recently Batman had been allowing the police forensic experts to meticulously go over the bodies and Commissioner Gordon e-mailed him the results.

Maybe he just needed to find someone else who had had personal experience with Dick in order to find a clue in these crime scenes. But who else did he know who had both experience with Dick and enough forensic knowledge to give a helpful evaluation of-

Flash.

Barry had known Dick since he was little, was like an uncle to him, and worked as a forensic expert so he would know what both the police and a hero would have already looked for in the crime scene.

*ding*

A new message popped up on the computer. Warily, Bruce clicked. It opened, revealing the last thing Bruce wanted to see at the moment.

A man. Older. Maybe late seventies. In a park.

Number seven.

Another murder. So soon? He had only just gotten the lab results back from number six. The time between the other kills had always been much longer, a week at least, yet this one must have occurred barely two days after the sixth. What changed? Frustrated, Bruce closed the file and leaned back against his chair. He wouldn't know the details until the police sent him their report, but from the pictures it appeared that nothing had changed.

Well, changes or not, one thing was certain, the kills were speeding up, and he was running out of time...

...and ideas.

So he did the only thing left to do. He picked up the phone and called the fastest man alive.

__________________________________________________________________________

The fastest man in everything except answering the phone apparently.

Bruce had to wait until the fifth ring before someone finally picked up.

"Batman! Long time no hear," said a far too chipper voice on the other end.

"Flash, I need your assistance on a case," Bruce answered, though far less enthused.

"I'm sorry I must've heard wrong Bats. What do you need?" Barry's voice dripped teasing sarcasm, he was loving this.

Bruce gritted his teeth 'it's for Dick' he reminded himself 'it's for Dick.' Well it was sort of for Dick, but then only if the two cases were in fact related somehow, and even then it might hurt more than it helped.

Still Bruce swallowed, or more accuratey choked, down his pride and answered "help Barry, I said I need your help."

"Really?!" Okay now he was pushing it. "Well why didn't you say so? I'd be _more_ than happy to aid you in anyway I can."

Bruce sighed, this is why he tried to avoid talking to the speedster.

"So what do ya need me to do B?"

"I need you to run down to Gotham and take a look at a crime scene for me."

"Ahh, no can do I'm afraid." Flash apologized, sounding far less upset than Bruce would've wanted.

"Flash, this is important."

"I'm sure it is B, but seriously I can't help you. I'm off world right now with Hal and Diana cleaning up that incident on Nimron remember?"

No, Bruce didn't remember, but to be fair he'd been so wrapped up in the case lately he hadn't been paying much attention to off world problems.

"Listen Bats, I can tell this is important to you, why can't you just go look yourself?"

Bruce stiffened. How much should he reveal about the situation? How much did Flash already know? Of course, the whole league was aware of what happened o Dick two years ago, but for Bruce's sake they kept questions and discussion about it to a minimum. What had happened had affected the whole league. Dick had been like a nephew to each and every one of them, news of his imprisonment hadn't gone over well at first…

(Flashback)

_"You did WHAT?!" Flash shouted across the long meeting room table. He would've probably jumped out of his chair if Green Arrow hadn't planted his arm to his shoulder to hold him down._

_"I did what I had to Flash," Batman countered in a monotone voice that sounded like he was still trying to convince himself of that fact. "You all saw the evidence, it's not safe to let him run lose."_

_The gathered leaguers gave a variety of reactions._

_Some, like Barry, seethed at the unfairness of the situation._

_Others, like Superman, sat quietly, still trying to take in everything they had just read and seen on the screen._

_"How could this have happened?" Dinah, one of the latter, murmured to no one in particular, "to one of our own?"_

_Bruce didn't answer her. He just kept staring down at the table, the whites of his lenses only half visible._

_The room settled into silence, no one happy with Bruce's solution, but no one had any better ideas on how to fix it._

_They stayed like that for a long time until Batman finally stood up. All eyes shifted to him, but he only turned and started walking to the zeta tubes without saying a word._

_"Batman!"_

_He paused, but didn't look back._

_"If there's anything we can do…"_

_Bruce stepped into the tube._

_"Thank you, Diana," he raised his head briefly to meet her eyes before disappearing in a flash of gold._

(End of Flashback)

Since then, Batman had withdrawn from the league quite a bit. Oh, he was still in it, but the Renegade case had consumed most of his time even then and league business had taken a backseat. He still showed up for important meetings and world catastrophes, but even then he was quiet, reserved in the way he handled himself. His fellow heroes had been very understanding, though Bruce suspected that it had something to do with how they themselves were uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

"Bats? You still there?" Flash's voice pulled him out of his memories.

"Um, yes I'm still here. I'm just, not sure how to start..."

"Well, just say it. I've never found waiting to be very helpful."

Why was Bruce not surprised?

"Flash, it's about… Robin" Bruce started.

All traces of humor seemed to evaporate from the conversation.

"What about Robin?" the normally excitable speedster's tone turning to ice.

"You remember the… incident two years ago?"

"How could I forget?" the question sounding more like an accusation for some reason.

"It's happening again"

Something crashed on Flash's end of the line.

Flash paused. "You mean… the murders? B, you realize you live in Gotham right? Murders happen all the time."

"No Flash, I mean the exact same murders. Victims, location, they're happening just like before, in the exact same order."

Another pause. "Where's Dick?"

Bruce hesitated briefly before answering. "He's here, with me. I took him out of Arkham a couple days ago to keep an eye on him."

Well, Flash didn't start shouting immediately so Bruce took that as a good sign.

"Batman. If you're telling me Richard was innocent this whole time…"

On second thought, maybe shouting would've been better, Flash's tone was lethal.

"No Flash. He's not innocent, the evidence was conclusive." Bruce quickly interrupted before the conversation could deteriorate any further.

"Look, the sixth murder happened barely a day ago and the seventh's details just came in. Whoever this killer is, he's speeding up. I have to find him now and I have no more leads."

Flash took a moment to think before answering, "why me?"

"Because the you're the only person I can think of who has experience with both super villains and police forensic analysts. I've looked at these bodies, they've looked at these bodies, and neither of us has found anything important. I was hoping maybe you, knowing what both groups look for, might discover something new."

"Okay," Flash said at last, "I don't think I'm going to get off this assignment anytime soon so here's what I suggest: sounds like you're dealing with a copycat so your murderer probably knew Dick or knew the person Dick was working for-"

"We have no evidence he was working for anyone," Bruce cut in.

"Don't interrupt B, I'm just throwing out possibilities. My suggestion is that you get Wally to go in my place. He knows almost as much about forensic science as I do, and he has had his own fair share of experience with supervillains. On top of that, he knew Robin better than almost anyone, and Renegade too." He finished with a touch of bitterness.

Bruce stiffened, _that was new_ , "what do you mean he knows Renegade? He wasn't in Gotham before his arrest."

"No, no he wasn't. But unlike you, he did go see him in prison."

"What?!" Bruce practically shouted. Why wasn't he told about this? Then again, why wasn't he told a lot of things during Dick's time in Arkham?

_'And whose fault is that?!_ ' his inner conscience shouted at him, but he squashed it back down.

"Hey, I'm not saying he went everyday, but once or twice yeah he ran down to see him." Flash was quick to defend his nephew. "Dick was his best friend, and you know he had trouble believing he was guilty, he wasn't going to accept it without talking to him."

Bruce took a moment to absorb the new information. "Did he talk to him?"

Flash didn't answer right away and Bruce got the impression that this topic was almost as painful for Barry as it was for him.

"Kid never said much about it, and I didn't want to force him to say anything he didn't want to, like I said he only went a couple of times, apparently Dick wasn't up for conversation either time and he said he mostly talked to his psychiatrist, and... I'm rambling aren't I?"

But Bruce wasn't listening anymore. Now he knew he needed to talk to Wally, even if he didn't come up with anything at the crime scenes, knowledge of what Dick was like in prison could be valuable, and anything his psychiatrist had to say certainly would be.

Bruce was just about to hang up to call Wally when his computer email flashed again.

*IMPORTANT NEW EVIDENCE* read the title line.

"Flash, could you call Kid Flash for me, something just came up."

"Sure B, what's wrong now?"

"I don't know, could be nothing, I'm sure Wally'll update you later."

Bruce hung up without saying goodbye and opened the email.

A video, Bruce tried not to think of what happened the last time he received a video in this situation.

He opened the file, surprised to find that it was security footage. None of the other attacks had occurred within view of a security camera, or any camera for that matter.

From the quality of the footage, it wasn't a very advanced camera, but then again who installs high price surveillance equipment in a park anyway?

The clip was only about ten seconds long and showed a man, most likely the victim, but he looked quite different with his face still intact and no blood on his clothes, walking behind a medium sized tree.

He never came out the other side.

Within five seconds, the old man was lying on his back half-hidden by the tree, face aflame.

The video stopped. Bruce's mouth hung open.

So where was the murderer?

Even if the killer had been hiding behind or in the tree, Bruce surely would've seen a glimpse of a hand or something?

Bruce pulled up the forensic report that had come with the video. Same as before, stab wounds, face burned post-mortem, and died of lethal injection.

He rewatched the feed a few more times, zooming in on various parts of the tree in order to find any clue as to the identity of the killer.

Nothing.

Even though the man was half visible the whole time, there was no sign of his assailant.

So now the murderer was invisible?

Bruce re-read the report again, the puncture wounds from the injections were perfect, and there were only two, which means neither one ever missed its' mark. Whoever did this had to have extreme experience with giving injections and chemicals, to be able to prepare and deliver those two shots in that amount of time.

Wonderful. The culprit was invisible, had experience with chemicals, and knew Dick.

Invisible, chemicals, Dick.

Bruce went ridged.

Invisible... chemicals... Dick...

Invisible? Or just too fast to see?

His comlink beeped and Bruce nearly fell out of his chair.

He reached up to answer it with a shaky hand.

"Hello?"

"Bats? I tried to call Wally, but he's not answering his com and Iris said she hasn't seen him for a about a month. Apparently he told her he was going on a trip to Gotham for a little while. Sorry, I wish I could've helped you more."

Bruce hesitated. Should he tell Barry? When the situation was reversed, would he have wanted to be kept in the dark about Dick?

No, he had to tell him, no matter how painful.

"Flash," he started, "I think I know who's behind this."

"You do? Who?!"

Bruce felt his heart twist. He sounded so eager, so blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

"I-I'm not sure how to tell you this..."

"Oh for heaven's sake Bats, just say it!"

"Barry... it's Wally."

*CRASH*

"What?!" Barry shouted into Bruce's ear, he kept shouting but Bruce didn't hear him.

He was too busy staring into the shocked blue eyes of the shadow that had snuck up behind him.


	7. Complications

(Wally's P.O.V)

No more lying in wait, no more hiding, no more killing in shadows.

It was time to run. He didn't need to take his time to make sure the kills were perfect anymore. He could speed through the kills and still perform them perfectly. A few seconds was more than he needed to get the job done.

He remembered the first set of kills he did, every detail, all thirteen. Funny, those seemed to take him so much longer. He remembered hiding in dark allies and up in thick trees waiting until his victims were alone before he struck. Back then he had to worry about being seen, for some reason he didn't use his speed, and of course without it making sure every detail of the job was done perfectly took a while. Now, with his speed he could take the same amount of care in a far smaller amount of time.

So why wait? Honestly, what was the point of spending a week meticulously planning each and every kill, and when he finally had his victim, he had to take forever to ensure that he wouldn't be caught by security cameras or other people? Why take forever to carefully complete his mission when he could move to fast for the eye to see? He could kill in seconds, and in plain sight. He didn't need to wait anymore. He was unstoppable.

His green eyes flicked back and forth until he found what he was looking for. A young man and woman, sitting closely together on the dock. Newly-weds.

Perfect.

Pulling his goggles down over his eyes, the speedster smiled to himself. He didn't need to sit in the shadows anymore. He didn't need to plan, didn't need to wait. He just needed to run.

Twenty feet.

Ten feet.

Five.

Three.

Two.

One.

The knife flashed.

A needle struck.

Fire sparked.

Finished.

Wally smiled as he sped away, plucking the man's wrist watch as he did so.

The whole job took less than eight seconds, and Wally was already out of the park before the first drop of blood hit the ground.

* * *

 

(Dick's P.O.V)

It was easier than Dick thought to sneak down to the Batcave. Part of him wondered exactly why he needed to sneak in the first place? He wasn't doing anything wrong, on the contrary, he was doing something good for everyone.

_Old habit? You used to do a lot of sneaking Renegade._

Dick opened his mouth to deny it on habit before remembering their earlier conversation and continuing on in silence.

Ill intentions or not, as he passed by the kitchen he still paused and listened carefully to be sure Alfred wasn't around. It only took a few seconds to determine he wasn't because his signature humming wasn't floating through the air. After assuring himself that he was in fact alone, he dashed in to get a quick glass of water before hurrying on his way.

When he reached the grandfather clock hiding the entrance to the cave he paused. Was this really the best thing to do? What if that memory was wrong? It felt real enough, but so did dreams while you were having them. Maybe the whole thing was some nightmare his subconscious came up with to torture him? A byproduct of his insanity?

_You're wasting time_

The other byproduct of his insanity was never silent for long.

Dick did his best to shove his musings to the back of his head as he entered the cave, only to stop short as a muffled voice drifted up from below.

Bruce was down there, granted that wasn't exactly surprising, when wasn't he down here? Still Dick wasn't sure he was quite ready to explain himself yet. Maybe he could get back down to the cells without Bruce seeing him? Well, it was worth a try.

Dick slowly started down the stairs, thanking his parents that he was naturally light on his feet. As Bruce's voice grew louder it became clear that he was on the phone. At first Dick did his best not to listen but as he got closer that became near impossible.

"I'm sure Wally'll update you later"

Wally? What was Bruce doing that involved Wally?

Against his better judgement, Dick attempted to get closer. He slowed his breathing in an attempt to calm his pounding heart, lest his former mentor hear. Bruce had gone quiet, all he could hear was furious clicking. Maybe the call was over? But what about Wally?

"Hello?"

So the call wasn't over.

There was a long pause during which Dick assumed whoever was on the other end was talking. Finally, Bruce broke the silence by letting out a heavy sigh.

"Flash," he started. Ah, so it was Flash on the other end.

"I think I know who's behind this."

Dick's breath caught as he rounded the corner and approached the back of Batman's chair. Bruce knew who did what? His question was answered by the large screen above him. Frozen on the monitor was the image of a man, in a park, with bloodstained clothes and a burning face.

_Beautiful_

He had seen that before hadn't he? He vaguely remembered Bruce showing him a crime scene photo of a man dead in a park, but there was something more. He briefly flashed back to a body. Or more specifically, him standing over a body, an old man, feeling that same exhilaration he'd felt when he stood over the mother and child.

_You killed them_

Dick was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize Bruce had started talking again.

"I-I'm not sure how to say it..."

 _'Oh for heaven's sake Bruce, just say it!'_ Dick shouted in his head.

"Barry, it's Wally."

Dick dropped the glass.

**CRASH**

… and it shattered all over the floor. Bruce spun around in the large, black chair, meeting Dick's shocked expression with one of near-panic.

* * *

 

(Bruce's P.O.V)

Dick's eyes were wide, disbelieving.

Bruce was at a complete loss for what to say. He hung up the phone, Flash still yelling on the other end. How much did Dick hear? Or an even better question…

How much had he already known?

Based on his reaction, not much.

Bruce couldn't be sure, but the expression of shock on Dick's face looked real enough, and the boy had always worn his heart on his sleeve if he remembered correctly.

He was so caught up in trying to determining Dick's sincerity, that he didn't realize the boy had been talking the whole time.

"Damn it Bruce!" he slammed his fist on a nearby table; the sound causing the latter to jump. "Why won't you just tell me what's going on!" The boy's breathing was becoming erratic and his eyes were jumping around without actually focusing on anything in particular.

Bruce recognized the growing signs of an impending panic attack and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Richard, I need you to calm down."

Dick didn't give any indication that he had heard him, just sagged and clutched the work table until his knuckles turned white. Bruce gave the contents of the table a quick overview, nothing Dick could hurt himself with, just evidence from an old case.

Bruce tried again, "Dick, breathe. Come on. In. Out."

To his relief, Dick attempted to take a deep breath, it was shaky and ragged, but at least he tried. Slowly, very slowly, Bruce approached him the way one would a snarling street dog. He still wasn't sure Dick wouldn't attack him, so he tried not to make any sudden moves.

"Dick?" He placed his hands on the young man's shoulders, Dick flinched a little at the contact but didn't move otherwise. Bruce continued to coach him in breathing exercises, the same ones he had used when Robin was young and suffering from nightmares of his parents deaths. Eventually, the combination of deep breaths, Bruce's soothing voice, and the calming hand rubbing his back began to have the desired effect. Gently, Bruce pulled him away from the table, and led him over to the chair.

"Bruce?" Dick voice was barely above a whisper as he was seated in the large chair, "what's happening to me? What were you talking about on the phone? What is-"

His voice was rising, he was getting worked up again. Bruce interrupted before it could go any further.

"Richard, listen to me. I'll tell you everything I can, but only if you promise to try to stay calm, alright?"

Dick took a moment to respond, finally he laced his fingers together and met the older man's gaze.

"Okay"

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick waited patiently while Bruce told his story. He started from the beginning despite having gone over some of it on Dick's first night back home.

"Dick, when I brought you back here I showed you some pictures. Do you remember?"

Dick searched his blurry memory, he remembered the pictures, but very few of the details they contained.

_You killed them_

"So you've said," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

Dick inwardly laughed, he had to stop talking to himself in the middle of conversations, people will think he's crazy!

"Dick?"

Realizing Bruce was still waiting on an answer, he dropped the small smirk that had started to form on his face and nodded.

"Good, well those occurred about two years ago. Do you remember the culprit?" Bruce's tone was gentle, as if he was getting ready to reveal some awful truth, but Dick beat him to it.

"I did" he whispered. No matter how much he thought about it, saying it for the first time was still a painful experience.

"What did you say?" Bruce sounded surprised.

"I said I did it. I killed them." Dick's voice became as strained as his expression and the last word was barely audible.

"Richard?" Bruce knelt in front of him and forced him to meet his gaze, "there's something I want you to see."

Dick didn't look up. He just stared blankly at his lap until he felt a piece of paper being placed in his hands.

He lifted his eyes questioningly at Bruce who sighed, "just read it."

Seeing as he was getting no answers this way, he did his best to focus on the somewhat wrinkled paper in his hands.

_Dear Batman,_

_Its been a while since we spoke, so I want to make a few things clear. First, I killed those people. All thirteen, I stabbed them, poisoned them, and burned them. I'm not apologizing for what I did, as I can't say truthfully that I regret my actions. This letter is a formality in all honesty. Consider it my confession, though it's more for your sake than for mine, to give you closure. I want to be clear when I say that I have no desire to see you once this case is closed. I want you to consider whatever history we may have had together is over as well. Goodbye Batman._

_No regrets,_

_Renegade_

Dick didn't say anything when he finished. He studied the paper, it was his own handwriting, but he couldn't remember writing it. He tried to push as far back in his mind as he could, but the threat of another massive headache stopped him.

"The commissioner delivered that to me about a week after I dropped you off at Arkham. After reading it I wanted to give you some space, after a while I guess I lost my nerve, made excuses." Bruce trailed off a bit toward the end. Dick was slightly surprised at the tone, guilt wasn't usually something you heard from the Batman. But they didn't have time to look back, Dick had questions he needed answered.

"Bruce, I killed those people, I told you that, apparently more than once" he said, indicating the piece of paper in his hands. "So why would you tell Flash that Wally…"

Now it was Dick's turn to trail off, he just couldn't finish that sentence. It was hard enough for him to come to terms with his own guilt, now to think that Wally…

No.

No way. Wally just couldn't have done this, he wouldn't. The fact that Bruce could even suggest such a thing made Dick's temper flare.

_Kill him_

"Dick, you know that someone's been on a killing spree for the past few months, and that their victims are identical to the ones from two years ago."

"And you think _Wally_ is behind it?!" Dick seethed, the paper in his hands shaking from the tightness of his grip.

As if Bruce sensed he was treading on dangerous ground he held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't know for sure that Wally's doing this, but all the evidence does seem to point to him."

_Kill him_

Dick narrowed his eyes, "He wouldn't do something like this."

Bruce nodded, "I understand how you feel, and believe me I don't want it to be true any more than you do, but right now we need to cover all the possibilities."

Dick was pretty certain Bruce was already sure Wally was guilty and was only saying all this for his sake. Fine! If that was how he wanted to be, Dick would just play along until he convinced him otherwise.

"Even if he _is_ guilty, there's no way he'd do this of his own free will."

To his surprise, Bruce nodded, "yes, that's certainly possible."

Well, if that was the only lifeline Bruce was going to give him, he'd take it. "How can we be sure?"

Bruce hesitated before answering. "Since you got back, I've been wracking my brain for a way to make sense of how two years ago you calmly admitted to murdering those people in cold blood, and now you don't seem to remember much about them except that you did it."

Bruce had stopped talking, however Dick was still waiting for him to get to the point.

"Dick?" Bruce started again after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Do you remember when the Light used BioTech to force the League to attack Rimbor?" He waited until Dick nodded before continuing. "Well, we suspect something like that may have happened with you. We were hoping you'd let me scan you, to see if there is any evidence of a chip or the remnants of one. If you-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Dick interrupted, "who is we?"

Bruce looked confused before he must've remembered that this was the first time he'd really talked to Dick about any of this except for his initial night back.

"I called Martian Manhunter yesterday while you were sick. Another possibility I thought of wouldn't require a chip. Perhaps someone was using mind control or holding someone hostage. J'onn said he'd drop by to see if we can unlock any of your memories, provided you consent."

Dick didn't need to think before answering. "Of course you have my consent, I want to know what happened just as much as you do!" He almost sprang out of the chair but Bruce stopped him with a strong arm on his shoulder.

"Hold on Dick, I need to go prep the machine. You stay here it'll only take about ten minutes."

Dick nodded as Bruce moved away, but after several minutes of agitated fidgeting he had to get up and walk around.

His head was spinning. Was he guilty or wasn't he? He wrote the confession didn't he? And how did Wally fit in to all this?

_You killed them_

Nice how some things never change, but all the confusion in his head was causing it to throb once again.

"Ugh" he leaned back against the worktable from earlier wondering if he would ever remember what it was like not to have a jackhammer trapped inside your skull. In frustration he hit his fist halfheartedly on the table, knocking some papers onto the floor in the process.

Crap.

As he bent down and started gathering them he noticed that they were case reports. Thinking they might be about recent events he leafed through them, hoping for clues. To his disappointment they weren't about the murders at all. In fact, they were quite old. They were documents regarding Scarecrow, who had kidnapped and tortured three members of the city council before Batman had stopped him.

Dick smiled, he remembered that case. He had been experiencing one of his teenage rebellion episodes and thought he could handle Crane all by himself. Well, he had been dead wrong and was held by the villain for two days before Batman found them. It had taken a couple of weeks for him to fully recover, and a couple of months for Bruce to let him back out as Robin, but he had learned his lesson.

Bruce returned just as he was putting the papers back on the table. Bruce quirked an eyebrow at them but didn't say anything about it.

"It's ready if you are."

Dick opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again as a new thought sprung up.

What if their was a chip? How would he cope with the knowledge that some third party could cause him to go so far against his principles, could force him to kill?

_You enjoyed it_

And if there wasn't a chip? Then he would have to live knowing that he was capable of… he really didn't want to think about it.

"Dick?"

He looked up, cobalt eyes met ocean blue, silently betraying every fear and doubt he had about the process. He was so lost in his own emotions that he didn't register what was happening immediately.

There was a hand, a gloved hand gently stroking his hair while the other rested on his shoulder. The paper dropped from Dick's hands as he brought them up to grip the Dark Knight's cape. He leaned forward slightly until his forehead rested lightly on the armor clad chest, breathing deeply. Grounding himself with the dark, earthy scent that was his safety, that was Bruce. The older man was quiet, content to wait for the young man in front of him to give the signal that he was ready before moving on.

Dick knew he was being childish, hiding his face in Batman's chest like a five-year-old, but right now he needed something solid to hold on to, assurance that Bruce would still be there regardless of what the scan showed. He hadn't realized it before, but being abandoned in Arkham had taken a toll on him. The last thing he wanted was something in the scan to cause Bruce to leave him again. The very thought only made him grip the dark cape even tighter.

_You're pathetic_

Dick jerked back so violently from the embrace that Bruce stumbled forward a few steps.

"Dick? Are you alright?"

Dick mentally seethed against the voice in his head for ruining the moment. Couldn't he have at least one minute of peace? More than anything he wanted to vent his rage. But he couldn't attack a voice inside his head. So he held it back and waited for the aggravation to pass before standing and facing Bruce.

"I'm ready."

* * *

 

(Bruce's P.O.V)

He was confused. One minute Dick was calm and vulnerable, and the next he pulled back and shut Bruce out again.

 _What in the world is going on with him_? Once again, Bruce had to remind himself of his son's unstable mental state.

He walked Dick down to the infirmary section of the cave, watching for any sign of the boy's previous reluctance to show. But he was stone faced and silent, determined to get this whole ordeal over with.

Well that made two of them.

Dick's resolve didn't waver as he climbed up onto the exam table, nor while he waited on his back as the scanner hummed to life. The only time the mask cracked was when Bruce saw him shut his eyes and inhale sharply as the laser began to move across his body. As the light moved, data began to flow onto the computer display. Bruce sat down next to the table as he scrolled through the abundant results.

He honestly couldn't believe his eyes.

Nothing.

Not one single sign of an implant, nor evidence that their had ever been one.

What were they supposed to do now? He hadn't really been expecting to find anything, but he was almost certain the machine would pick up the remnants of something. It wasn't a malfunction, Bruce had run a quick test when he left Dick for a bit to make sure, the scanner still picked up evidence of the BioTech that the Light had once implanted in him. If the results said that their was no chip, then their never was a chip. How was he supposed to tell Dick?

Said acrobat was now sitting up, staring at Bruce expectantly, hope evident in his eyes.

Bruce couldn't face him. Instead he turned away and turned off the machine.

"Let's call J'onn"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! No this story isn't abandoned, so sorry for making anyone think that. The next three chapters should be coming out sometime this week. Again so sorry for the wait! Thanks for reading!


	8. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Here's the next chapter finally! Sorry it took so long but my musical opened the week before last, and once it closed my other show opened the next week. But they are both over so I can focus on writing again! Yay!
> 
> I do not own Young Justice

Chapter 8: Memory

(Dick's P.O.V)

"Let's call J'onn"

Dick gaped at Bruce's back, his thoughts growing more and more panicked. So there wasn't a chip? He wasn't being controlled by some outside force? This was all his doing? Why wouldn't Bruce turn around?

_He's going to abandon you_

_'No,'_ Dick thought, _'he wouldn't... would he? Why wouldn't he turn around!?_ '

_He doesn't care about you_

Oh God, the voice was right! Bruce didn't love him anymore. He was going to take him back to Arkham! He was going to abandon him again! He would-

"Dick?" Someone grabbed him.

(Flashback)

_Hands. Strong hands. Pinning his arms and legs. Thick straps cutting into his skin, binding him to the metal chair. There was so much noise it was overwhelming._

_People running around, metal banging, white coats flashing._

_"Hold him down! Grab his leg! Shit, someone get a doctor in here!"_

_Someone was screaming. Was it him?_

_"No! Please! I'm innocent! I didn't mean to! Stop! Please!"_

_A face. Someone he knew. Holding his head, pressing it back against the head rest._

_"Now, now Renegade, calm down. This is going to make all the confusion go away. Just relax. Take a deep breath._ "

_That voice was so familiar. He breathed. He tried to lie still._

_The face smiled. "Good boy."_

_The hand on his forehead disappeared. Instead it was replaced with another strap._

_Then... pain._

_Unimaginable pain._

_More screaming, was it him? It didn't matter, he couldn't seem to form coherent thoughts. He tried to struggle, but the restraints held him fast. He just wanted to black out, for the nightmare to end. It was too much for his system._

_The pain._

_The lightning._

_The screaming._

(End of Flashback)

"RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON!"

Dick jerked violently, and probably would've split his head open on the edge of the exam table if there weren't two hands holding his head in place. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. Wasn't he back in Arkham? All the florescent lights made it hard to see. And why couldn't he move his head? Let go! LET GO!

He lashed out with his left leg, hard, and felt it connect with something solid. He heard a grunt and suddenly the pressure around his head vanished. He didn't stop to see what he'd hit, he just stumbled to his feet and blindly ran toward the door.

He had to escape, had to get out, had to- oomph!

Someone hit him hard in the back and tackled him to the floor.

"Richard! Richard snap out of it!"

That voice. He knew that voice didn't he? Bruce? Why was Bruce here? This was Arkham wasn't it?

Dick's thrashing calmed down a bit, and he began to register more of his surroundings.

He was lying on his chest. On the floor. With someone heavy -Bruce, his rational mind supplied - on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

"B-Br-Bruce?" The one word was all he could manage he was shaking so hard.

"Dick? Dick I'm here. I'm right here, you're safe. You're safe Dick. I'm right here."

Dick didn't say anything. He couldn't get his limbs to work either, he just lay on the floor and trembled; listening to his father's voice and feeling comforting hands rub his arms.

Eventually, Bruce got up off of Dick's back, once he was relatively certain the boy wasn't going to go back into convulsions.

Dick still didn't move, he couldn't. The bright florecent lights of the med-bay were positively blinding and darkness creeped on the edge of his vision. His head was once again throbbing as remnants of the voices and mad laughter and screams still echoed in his head.

_So weak, no wonder he left you_

_'It's true,_ ' Dick thought, _'I lose it if he so much as touches me._ '

Lying on the cold floor, Dick didn't think he'd ever felt so useless. I mean really, what good was he? He couldn't go two hours without curling up in a ball from some disjointed memory or another. He could barely think his head hurt so much. And the one thing Bruce asked him to do, help find the copycat murderer, he couldn't because he couldn't remember what he'd done. It was almost funny, and before he knew it, Dick was laughing.

_Pathetic_

* * *

 

(4 hours later)

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Dick was warm. Comfortable. Keeping his eyes closed, he took note of the pillow beneath his head, and the mattress felt so soft he never wanted to get up. Just for a moment, everything was perfect, peaceful even. He could pretend that everything was fine, he'd wake up in his bed in the manor, and walk downstairs to breakfast with Alfred and Bruce.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He could've kept the illusion going far longer if it weren't for that obnoxious beeping in the background. He knew he had to open his eyes sooner or later, and he knew what he'd see when he did.

His cell.

In Arkham.

Alone.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Okay, he couldn't take that noise any longer. He opened his eyes expecting to be greeted by blank walls and dim lighting. Instead, he was met with bright lights and steel equipment, causing him to wince and shut his eyes once again.

It all came back to him in a rush. He wasn't in Arkham, he was at the manor, the cave's med-bay from the looks of things. Bruce had scanned him looking for a chip. They didn't find anything then... nothing. He drew a blank after that.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Ugh, what was that noise. Squinting against the light, Dick opened his eyes again. Looking around his bed he quickly discovered a heart monitor to his right. In addition to that, he found an IV in his arm as well. Disliking not knowing what was being pumped into his veins, it reminded him too much of Arkham, he started pulling at it.

"Leave it there Dick."

Though the voice was gentle, it was firm, and Dick had been conditioned to obey the speaker without question since he was nine.

He let his hand drop and turned over his shoulder.

"Bruce? What happened?"

Bruce, currently wearing his suit minus the cowl, crossed from the doorway to Dick's bedside.

"You had a panic attack. I couldn't calm you down so I sedated you. You've been asleep for about four hours now."

Dick nodded slowly, then gestured to the IV in his arm. "What about this?"

"It's a standard drip, you're still a little dehydrated, with a mild sedative mixed in. Not enough to make you sleep, just enough to keep you calm."

"May I come in?"

Dick jumped at the sound of a new voice and jerked his head toward the doorway. Martian Manhunter stood in his typical costume, waiting for Batman to signal that it was safe to approach.

Bruce turned to greet the other leaguer, "yes J'onn, please come in." Turning back to Dick, "J'onn got here about an hour ago. I've already explained everything to him and he's ready to try this if you are, provided you still want to?"

The last bit was clearly a question, and after his earlier episode following the scan, Dick certainly understood Bruce's hesitance. What Bruce couldn't understand however, was the helpless feeling of having a blank spot in your memory. It really wasn't a blank spot though, more like a huge wall in his mind, he had no idea what was on the other side, but somehow knew it had to be important. If letting Manhunter into his head was the only way to get through it, then so be it.

"Lets do it."

* * *

 

Dick lay back against the exam table. He pulled slightly at the restraints on his arms. After a long argument with Bruce he had reluctantly agreed to having them put on just to be safe.

Martian Manhunter sat by the bed while Batman remained by the monitors, keeping vigil over Dick's vital signs just in case.

"Now Richard, just close your eyes and try to relax. When you feel a presence in your mind do your best not to fight it."

Dick nodded, closing his eyes he did his best to calm his racing thoughts. After a little while he felt something probing at his brain. He didn't fight it, it was his last chance at finding out what really happened.

He could feel the probe approach the wall in his mind. When it reached the blockage it stopped, carefully testing the strength of the wall in front of it. Slowly, the presence began to press against the wall. Dick could feel a slight pressure building but it wasn't too bad.

The probe, sensing it wasn't making much progress with the gentle approach, gave up prodding and slammed into the wall.

"Aaargh!" Dick yelled at the sudden pain exploding in his skull and yanked against the straps holding him down. Instantly the presence in his head retreated.

"Richard?! Are you alright?" J'onn asked, concern evident in his voice as he attempted to sooth the struggling teen.

"Dick?" Bruce stepped away from where Dick's heart monitor was beeping rapidly. "What happened? Did you remember something?"

"No." J'onn thankfully answered for him since Dick was breathing to hard to respond. "There seems to be some sort of mental block, keeping anyone from accessing them. When I attempted to get through, it must have triggered this pain response."

"Can you try again, or do you think it'll be too stressful for him?"

"I can do it," Dick interrupted.

J'onn looked skeptical. "Richard I-"

"I'll be alright J'onn. You just have to keep going no matter what."

"But-"

"Do as he says J'onn." Batman spoke up from the corner where Dick's heart rate had finally calmed down. "It's his choice."

Dick felt a warm sense of gratitude toward his father figure. He understood in a way Martian Manhunter never could, he understood what it was like to live your life knowing there was a murderer out there who was never brought to justice.

J'onn sighed in defeat but sat back down next to the bed anyway.

Dick took a deep breath and lay back again as well. Once again he felt the probe in his head approaching the wall. However, unlike the last time, instead of gently pressing against the block the probe slammed against it immediately.

"Aaaah!"

Agony enveloped Dick's being. Every nerve was on fire, thank God for the restraints or else he probably would have given himself whiplash. The probe kept drilling at the wall, but it was barely doing any damage at all.

The pain was only getting worse. His body was spasming completely out of control, if he could form coherent thoughts right now he probably would've likened the feeling to electrocution. The wall was just barely cracking despite the constant pressure J'onn was inflicting. He didn't know how much longer he could take it, darkness was starting to play on the edge of his vision.

He could do it. Just let go and leave it all behind; all the pain, and confusion, just surrender to the blackness.

_So weak_

No.

He was not weak. Not anymore. And this was his chance to prove it.

Dick pushed against the darkness, forcing it back. J'onn was making some headway, the wall had spiderweb cracks running over its surface. However, it was still relatively solid and J'onn was clearly tiring.

_'He's not gonna be able to break it,_ ' was Dick's last thought before gathering his will power and pushing against the wall himself, working with J'onn.

Just as the pain reached a mind-shattering peak the wall shattered.

* * *

 

(Inside Dick's Mind)

_Dick, clad in his Robin suit, stood proudly in front of a young man cowering before him._

_"No, please! You're supposed to be a hero?!"_

_Renegade sneered, "Hero is a relative term."_

_As he advanced the man lashed out weakly with his right fist. Renegade defended with his knives, swinging them both to his right to stab his prey in both the forearm and shoulder. Anticipating his quarry's next move, he swiftly pulled the knives out and struck the oncoming left arm in the same way._

_"Aaaahh!" The man tripped to the side. He fell around Renegade and started madly scrambling towards the opening at the other end of the alley._

_"Well, we can't have that' Renegade muttered and threw both the knives hitting his captive's left ankle and thigh, effectively halting his escape._

_"Noooo!" The man kept trying to hobble away, though without the use of his arms and left leg he wasn't going to get very far._

_'This is almost too easy' he thought as he pushed his victim to the ground, pulling out the knives in the process. "What's wrong? Not feeling the aster?" he chuckled as he stabbed the right leg in the same way._

_"Aaargh! Stop PLEASE!"_

_Renegade listened to the agonized screams echo off the alley walls. He wasn't concerned, it was so late that few people should be awake, and those that were knew better than to come toward someone screaming in Gotham. There was only one person who could possibly present a problem and Renegade knew for a fact he was at home. Just one of the advantages to being his sidekick._

_So with no witnesses or Batman to worry about, Renegade decided to have a little fun._

_Contemplating his prey, Renegade twirled his knives and casually watched a drop of blood fall from the edge of the blade. Kneeling down, he slowly pushed the weapons into the man's lower lower ribs. Needless to say this elicited a wonderfully drawn out screech from his companion._

_Renegade loved those screams. He wanted to hear more._

_Dragging out his knives, he slowly re-inserted them between the upper ribs, careful to avoid the heart, reveling in the sounds his victim made._

_"Oh God, please, please stop, please..."_

_Renegade let out a signature cackle._

_"So pathetic."_

_Pulling out the knives once again, he stood up from his crouch and started to sheath them._

_"Oh thank you! Thank you!"_

_He glanced down at the man, sobbing weakly on the ground. Unsheathing one knife, he knelt down and cocked his head to meet the other's tear stained eyes._

_"Oh I'm not done yet."_

_He stabbed the man in the stomach, and slowly twisted the knife as he gazed into his victim's eyes. Reveling in the noises he made as his whimpers slowly got quieter._

'Well, I suppose it would be cruel of me to let you suffer,' _he thought 'might as well put you out of your misery.'_

_Wrapping a gloved hand around the figure's throat, Renegade fished in his utility belt for the two syringes he brought with him. Pulling them out, he uncapped them with his teeth before jabbing them into the bulging vein in the man's throat._

_As the young man's eyes slowly glazed over, Renegade stepped back surveying his work. It somehow seemed..._

_...incomplete._

_Feeling unsatisfied, Renegade did a mental check of everything in his utility belt before his eyes lit up with an idea._

_Pulling out a lighter he stepped up to the bloody corpse, looking it over one last time before setting the hair aflame. The fire quickly spread to the rest of the head, but Renegade made sure it stopped at the neckline to preserve the rest of his masterpiece._

_Stepping back once again, he felt an intense rush of pride at his accomplishment. Never before had he felt so fulfilled, so alive._

_Smiling to himself he checked the time, unhappy to find it was almost 4:00 AM. Realizing he still had to wash the blood off his gloves, not to mention get back to the manor before he was missed, he grudgingly shot off a grappling hook to make his way back home._

_The body would be found, tomorrow probably, which meant he couldn't go out for a little while, at least until the heat died down._

_Next week maybe?_

_He smiled._

(End of Dick's Memories)

Dick jerked awake in a cold sweat. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. He took a couple deep breaths, _'I'm in the cave, I'm home, I'm home.'_

Finally, he composed himself enough to look up at J'onn who was currently sitting next to him, his face buried in his hands.

Concerned, Dick looked at Bruce who was also staring at the martian. Slowly J'onn raised his head to look at Bruce, Dick couldn't see his expression from the angle he was at. He saw Bruce nod and turn away so he assumed the two had communicated telepathically. What did they say? Why did Bruce turn away again? Why wouldn't anyone look at him?!

"J'onn? What happened?" He finally asked in a raw voice.

Slowly, very slowly, the leaguer raised his head to lock eyes with him; Dick didn't like what he saw there.

"I'm sorry. I- I detected no outside influence controlling you." His tone was a mix between horrified and apologetic, as if he to couldn't bring himself to process the hard truth in front of him.

Dick felt much the same way. He knew he was insane, and he knew he was a murderer, but somehow hearing someone he trusted actually say it, was like being doused with a bucket of cold water. Bruce had given him something he hadn't had in a long time, hope. Now that it was taken away...

...he felt numb.

* * *

 

During the silence, Martian Manhunter had risen, unstrapped Dick from the bed, and quietly apologized to both before politely, and unavoidably awkwardly, seeing himself out.

The other two continued to sit in silence for a little while before Dick couldn't take it anymore.

Dick slumped back, images from that night still assaulted his mind; and it wasn't just that kill, he remembered all of them now, up until he attacked Batman in the cave and woke up in Arkham. His memories confirmed what Martian Manhunter had said, he wasn't being controlled, he wasn't following orders, he acted completely alone.

_You loved it_

The voice was right. He had loved it, he was dangerous. It was then that he was reminded of the reason he came down to the cave in the first place.

"Bruce?"

"Hmm?" His father figure was pretending to fiddle with some wires on one of the machines, he still hadn't looked at him.

"Bruce please look at me." Dick whispered softly.

To his credit, the man turned around and met Dick's eyes, schooling his features to hide whatever emotional turmoil he was undoubtably experiencing as he did.

"Yes Dick?"

"I, uh, I..." he took a deep breath and decided to try to get it over with as fast as possible. "I want you to take me back to Arkham."

Dick wasn't sure what he expected Bruce's reaction to be, but the harsh silence that followed certainly wasn't what he had in mind.

He got up off the bed and walked toward the older man, muscles protesting quietly, he reached out to touch Bruce's shoulder hoping to shake him out of his daze. However, before his fingers made contact, a hand shot up and grabbed his wrist in an iron grip.

Dick yelped and flinched back a bit at the harsh treatment expecting a blow, but none came. Opening his clenched eyes he saw Bruce looking at him with the guiltiest expression he'd ever seen.

"Dick I- I'm sorry, I just-"

"You're afraid of me." Dick accused.

Bruce opened his mouth to deny it but nothing came out, he eventually just dropped his gaze and spoke in a low defeated voice.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

 

The two walked out of the medical bay in awkward silence, Bruce, having released Dick's wrist, led the way back to the main part of the cave.

Bruce sat down at the computer console, leaving Dick to stand awkwardly behind him before going to lean against the work table from before.

"So..." he started as he listened to the clicking of the keyboard, "when are you going to take me back to Arkham."

Bruce stopped typing and turned in the chair, "I'm not."

Dick started "you're not?! But didn't J'onn tell you-"

"He told me everything Dick, but I'm not sending you back there. I can keep you under surveillance here, just in case."

Dick wasn't sure how to feel. This was better than he could've hoped for, but recent events kept him from jumping for joy for obvious reasons.

"So if you're not taking me back to Arkham, what are you doing?" Feeling fidgety he shifted, moving his hands back until they brushed something heavy. Looking over his shoulder he glanced at the object, his old utility belt. Reaching out to run his fingers over it he briefly contemplated how it got on the table, then realized Bruce must've taken it off him and thrown it off to the side after he attacked him in the cave all those years ago.

"I'm trying to pinpoint Wally's heat signature. I'm going to bring him in." Bruce's voice was cold, determined as he gazed at the map on the screen.

Dick froze.

"WHAT?! NO! He's innocent, he has to be! You can't-"

"ENOUGH!" Bruce shouted, "this isn't up for debate. We now know for certain that you acted alone, no reason to think that he isn't doing the same. I have to at least bring him in before any other innocent people die."

Dick felt anger coarse through him. Bruce wouldn't listen, he had to do something. He had to protect Wally. He picked up the belt and twisted it in his hands, what could he do?

_Kill him_

Dick looked at Bruce, his mind clearing for the first time in a while. Of course, it was so obvious. Kill Batman and then everything would be alright. Slowly rising from the table, he folded the belt in his hands and pulled, testing its' strength. He'd always been fond of strangling his victims, and the belt would do just fine.

Unfortunately, he was out of practice stalking his prey and one of his footsteps was a bit too loud.

Batman turned in the chair catching the teen's approach.

"Dick, what are you-"

He didn't get any further than that, as a utility belt wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air.

Dick smiled, leaning in so he was eye to eye with his former mentor.

"Call me Renegade"

 


	9. Just Like Before

(Bruce's P.O.V)

"Call me Renegade"

Bruce's eyes widened as something tightened around his neck, cutting off his airflow. Wait... Renegade? What was going on now!?

Spots began to dance in front of his vision, proving very helpful in getting his mind to stop reeling and get his priorities straight. Breathing first, then thinking.

Making sure to keep eye contact with Dick - Renegade? - Bruce lashed out hard with his right leg, connecting solidly with his assailant's shin. Instantly the pressure around his neck loosened as Renegade let out a low grunt of pain and staggered back a few steps.

Taking very little time to get his breath back, consequentially also not giving his opponent any time to recover, Bruce sprang out of the chair and grabbed Renegade's arm, spinning him violently in order to wrap his arm around the smaller man's neck in a choke hold.

Renegade thrashed a bit, trying to reach inside the belt to grab for a weapon, but Bruce grabbed his wrist with his free hand. He tightened his hold on renegade's throat, feeling his struggles slowly lose their edge and become more and more sluggish. Finally the boy dropped the belt and went limp in Bruce's arms.

Bruce let go of his neck as soon as he was sure Renegade was really unconscious. As soon as he had lowered him to the floor, he backed away from the body to collect his thoughts.

 _What_ in the world just happened?

Everything had been going so well and then suddenly... he didn't even know. Could something have triggered a flashback? Or a split personality? Or-

He really didn't want to believe it but, could Dick have been lying this whole time?

Based on what J'ohn said that was technically possible, but still...

Well, one thing was for certain, he needed to bring Wally in and he needed to make sure Dick was securely detained while he did so.

Bending down, Bruce picked up the boy's body and carried him bridal style back down to the cells. Placing him on the bed, he tucked the blanket around him and stepped back. Looking at him now, you would never guess he'd just tried to kill someone. But that was the problem wasn't it? He seemed so innocent, yet the evidence was overwhelmingly clear that he wasn't.

He couldn't think about this right now. He needed to find Wally before it was too late.

With newfound conviction he made his way to the computer. Now that he knew what, or rather who, he was looking for, the next part was easy. He programed the computer to search for Wally's specific heat signature, then the computer brought up a map of Gotham with lines dictating where it picked up Wally's signature. The more frequently he visited a place, the thicker the lines were. From the look of the map, Wally had been spending a lot of his time at an old abandoned lab a few miles from Arkham Asylum. Seemed like the best place to start.

Stopping only to check on Dick, who was still unconscious, Batman made his way to the Batmobile with a myriad of emotions.

Contrary to what Dick seemed to believe, Bruce was not enjoying this at all.

Dick and Wally had been the best of friends. To Bruce, Wally was like a nephew and he had always liked the young speedster. He had been a great help to Dick in more ways than he could count, from saving his life on missions to providing moral support on the anniversary of his parents' deaths. Bruce owed that boy a great deal...

So how did it all come to this?

He really needed to put this out of his mind for now, focus on the task at hand.

Protect Gotham.

Schooling his features, he started the car and sped out of the cave.

* * *

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick awoke from the nightmare with a gasp. He sat bolt upright in bed, his body soaked in sweat as he gasped for air. Looking around, he took comfort in the familiar sights and sounds of the cave around him. He relaxed his muscles and lay back, staring up at the ceiling of his cell.

Wait... his _cell?_

He sat up again. Why was he here? Shouldn't he be in his room? Upstairs?

He closed his eyes and tried to remember. He came downstairs to the cave. Bruce ran some tests, and Martian Manhunter managed to unlock his... memories.

Oh.

A wave of sadness washed over him as he remembered exactly what those memories had entailed.

Anyway, then Bruce said he was going to bring Wally in, Dick remembered getting mad and then... nothing.

Nothing?

Nothing!?

"Damn it!" he yelled, grabbing his pillow and flinging it across the room.

It landed with a soft thud against the bars. Dick just glared at it, breathing labored as he vented all his frustration upon the inanimate object.

 _'Why!? Why did this have to happen? What was the point of any of this!'_ he raged mentally. _'I was a hero, a superhero! I fought to protect people, to keep the world safe. Then one day I just decides to start killing people all on my own? And I don't even remember WHY!'_

He wasn't sure how long he spent silently ranting about the injustice of his situation, but when he was done he simply sat perfectly still before flopping back onto the bed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

He felt tired, so tired. Tired of being frustrated. Tired of not remembering. Tired of being alone.

Wait. Alone?

What happened to Bruce?

_He abandoned you_

"Shut up!" Dick snapped, his head turning slightly to the side as he did so.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember exactly what happened before his black out. Bruce was here. He was definitely here. He wanted to find Wally-

Oh God.

Wally. Bruce had gone after Wally.

If Dick thought he was panicked before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.

 _'Wally? He's my friend. He's innocent! But... if Bruce catches him. He'll... he'll throw him in Arkham,'_ the more his panic grew the more broken his thought process became. At the mention of Arkham though he stopped. All his memories of his time in prison filled his mind, paralyzing him with fear. All the pain, the cold, the hopelessness - he shuddered - he couldn't let Wally, his energetic, loyal, brilliant best friend, go through that.

He couldn't let him be broken like that.

_Then stop him_

Dick bridled at the detached boredom the voice emitted, but that didn't stop him from listening.

"How?"

_Go after him_

That made Dick laugh. "Have you forgotten where we are? We're locked in, the door has to be opened from the outside, and Bruce is gone."

_Yes, but Bruce isn't the only on who lives here is he?_

Dick stiffened as realization began to set in.

Alfred.

"No," his voice was firm "I'm not dragging him into this."

_You have to_

"What if I hurt him?"

The voice said nothing. Instead it conjured up the image of a pale freckled face, with once fiery red hair now dull and matted, and green eyes that were now dim and lost.

"Stop it." Dick whispered.

_Only you can do that_

The image changed to show Dick's old cell, only instead of Dick, the shivering, emancipated form of Kid Flash lay on the cot. His shoulders shook slightly with repressed sobs as he coughed and fruitlessly attempted to warm himself up with the meager blanket.

"Stop it!" Dick demanded again.

_Just say the word_

Again the vision shifted slightly, it still showed Wally curled up on the pitiful excuse for a bed, but now he was quiet, still, he was...

Dead.

Dick thought he was going to throw up. He couldn't stop seeing his friend's lifeless, emerald eyes. It was like they were looking directly into his soul, accusing, condemning...

"Alright! I'll do it! I'll do it!" he finally broke down, grabbing his head as if he could rip the vision out of his mind.

His head cleared, leaving him feeling more disoriented and scared than ever before. The look in his eyes. He saw those eyes almost every night in his nightmares, they were the eyes of the people he couldn't save, first his parents... now Wally.

_It doesn't have to be that way_

The voice was right. He wasn't that helpless nine year-old anymore, he could do something. He could save Wally.

He _had_ to save Wally.

"ALFRED!"

* * *

(Alfred's P.O.V)

Alfred was busy in the kitchen. He had been waiting upstairs for the duo to return as per Master Bruce's wishes. His reasoning being that if something in the cave triggered a violent outburst in Dick then he didn't want Alfred to get hurt.

So Alfred threw himself into baking to take his mind off current events.

However, when four hours had passed he started to get worried.

As he pulled a third cherry pie out of the oven, he decided to go investigate.

The moment he set foot in the cave he knew something was wrong.

"Alfred! Alfred?!" a slightly hoarse voice rose up from the darkness below him.

Good heavens, was that Master Dick?

Following the sound of the voice, Alfred hurriedly descended the staircase. When he reached the source of the calls, however, he stopped.

He was correct, it was Master Dick, but why was he back in a cell?

The normally unshakeable butler felt anger rise up within him. He thought he'd made his stance very clearly to Master Bruce on this matter. Speaking of Master Bruce...

Where was he?

Alfred didn't get much time to ponder this dilemma however, for the young man in the cell took that moment to notice he had a visitor.

"Alfred!"

Picking up on the note of desperation in the boy's tone, Alfred approached the bars swiftly.

"Master Dick are you alright? What is going on here? Where is Master Bruce?"

Dick took a moment to swallow, his throat was probably sore from all the yelling, and sucked in a large breath before beginning.

"I'm fine Alfie, I don't know for sure where Bruce is. We did the tests and I blacked out and then I woke up in here and he was gone. You've got to let me out though, he thinks Wally is behind the attacks, but he's wrong, and I think he's going after him to arrest him and you've got to let me out 'cause he's making a big mistake!"

Alfred stood with wide eyes, saying nothing while Dick panted after his tirade.

"So, you believe Master Bruce is going to hurt Master West?" Alfred asked for clarification, Dick had spoken so fast he wasn't exactly sure what he'd said.

"Either that or he's gonna hurt himself. Please Alfred you have to let me out of here. I have to stop him before he..." Dick trailed off and looked up at Alfred with a helpless expression. Alfred met his gaze and was instantly certain of two things - first, he had never seen Master Dick's blue eyes open so wide, and second, he had never seen any person more look more honest in his life.

Feeling his last reservations fade, Alfred walked to the door of the cell and entered the code onto the DNA sensitive keypad. As the door slid open a pair of arms instantly wrapped roughly around his chest, pinning his own arms to his torso. Alfred panicked for a moment that he might've just made a dreadful mistake until he realized what was happening.

Dick squeezed the butler tightly and buried his face in his shoulder, whispering "thank you" over and over again.

Feeling silly for his previous reaction, Alfred relaxed into the hug and whispered back a slightly confused "you're welcome" to his rather overly emotional charge.

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick pulled back from the hug, felling a little embarrassed at his overly emotional reaction. In all honesty it just felt so good to have someone trust him again. But he didn't have time to enjoy the moment, he had to find Bruce and rescue Wally. With those specific goals in mind he walked straight to the main computer and started typing furiously.

Dick had had a difficult time hacking Bruce's files in the best of days. So to say that breaking into them now was challenging, since his hacking skills have been collecting dust for two years, would be a massive understatement. This was practically impossible! His typing grew more frantic as he was blocked by firewall after firewall. If he could just... find... the right... password!

*ding*

Success! An unbidden smile found its way across Dick's face. He couldn't describe how right this felt. To be working as a hero again, to be using his skills for good, and helping his mentor, and rescuing his best friend. He was so lost in his thoughts and his task that he didn't notice Alfred coming over to stand beside him.

"You look rather pleased Master Dick."

"Hmm?" Dick glanced away from the screen, finally registering the smile on his own face, and a small, yet genuine laugh escaped him for the first time in years. "Yeah, I guess I am. It just... feels good to be _doing_ something again Alfred."

He turned his full attention back to the screen just soon enough to miss the way the old butler's eyes misted up at the words, and the single tear that slid down his face.

"Yes well," Alfred wiped his eyes quickly with a handkerchief as he spoke, "it is good to see you smile again young sir."

"Thanks Alfred" Dick clicked a few more times before a map of Gotham appeared on the screen. "Got it!"

"Got what Master Dick?"

"Bruce's tracking device, now I don't have to waste time running all over the city looking for him," Dick explained while gesturing to a small red dot flashing on the screen.

"Ahh, I see." Alfred sat down in the chair to take a closer look at the screen. Dick scrambled around behind him, he knew it was back here somewhere...

The butler eventually turned around, probably afraid the boy was making a mess, "Master Dick whatever are you do-"

He cut off when Dick turned to face him, his domino mask placed securely over his eyes.

"I know the rest of the costume's too small now, but I figured this would still fit, and it's better than nothing," he said with a somewhat sheepish expression on his face.

Alfred smiled, "Good luck, Master Robin."

Dick's smile widened, turning around he grabbed his utility belt off the table and clipped it on on his way down the stairs to the garage. Selecting one of his old favorites from the row of bikes, he was relieved to find it already fueled up and working.

He smiled from beneath his helmet. It did feel great to be back, headed out just like he used to. His mission was clear, he would find Bruce...

...and he would finally kill him.


	10. Confrontations

(Bruce's P.O.V)

The wheels of the Batmobile screeched as it tore down the streets of Gotham. Bruce had to swerve several times in order to avoid other cars or the occasional pedestrian. _'This is incredibly dangerous,'_ he mused as he made a hard right in order to keep from running down an elderly woman walking with her grandson.

The woman screamed and shook her purse at him as he passed; if Batman hadn't been so focused on the task at hand he might've actually taken the time to wonder exactly what she thought she could accomplish by brandishing a purse at him?

Beep... Beep... Beep Beep... Beep Beep... Beep Beep Beep...

The pulses from the map on the Batmobile console were getting closer together, he was getting close.

He was now driving through one of the outer parts of Gotham. Unfortunately in this city, outer didn't mean friendly, suburban homes, and quaint family run shops like in other places, no, in Gotham, outskirts generally meant abandoned and falling apart.

For now, it was mostly abandoned apartment buildings, windows either smashed or boarded up, some with caved in roofs. But the further he drove the more industrial style buildings he saw mixed in with the residential.

He was getting closer.

Batman felt a chill go through him when the twisted gates of the old Arkham Asylum building came into view. It had only been about eleven years since it was in use but looking at it now one would think it had been much longer.

The stone walls of the abandoned asylum were still mostly intact, however the roof had massive holes from the fire that had rendered the place no longer usable all those years ago.

That place was the main reason the surrounding area was in such bad shape. Many people couldn't stand living anywhere near the asylum. For some, the fire was the last straw and those that didn't leave then moved out shortly after the neighborhoods were ravaged by the escaped inmates. Those few that couldn't afford to move out had to deal with the drug lords and gangs that now ruled over the area, however even those types steered clear of the asylum. Some went as far as claiming it was haunted, others said it was possessed, but everyone, Batman included, agreed that there was something sinister still living in that place.

Batman felt his chest relax a little more with each mile he put between himself and the burnt out shell. Unfortunately that wasn't very many as he had just barely cleared the perimeter fence when the GPS in the car pulsed erratically and the lab came into view.

At a glance it didn't look particularly suspicious, of course, at a glance it didn't look particularly like a lab either. A person walking down the street probably wouldn't even recognize it as a lab, just a simple, concrete structure, one to two rooms at best. However, Batman's research had revealed that underground their was a network of other rooms that, in the end, added up to a rather large and complex structure. The above ground section had once served as a security checkpoint for arriving employees, but when STAR Labs had come to town and built a new location in downtown Gotham, this building had been essentially abandoned and left to rot; most of it's employees being employed by the new STAR facility. Despite it's small size and boarded up door, it didn't appear particularly conspicuous, that is, until one took a hard look at the buildings around it.

In an area as overrun with gang activity and violence as this one, it was common for the buildings to be in massive states of decay, with peeling paint and jungles of grass.

So why did this one have a path of worn down grass in front of it?

The strangest part of it was it didn't lead to the door, instead it went around the back.

Apprehension rising within him, Batman parked the car in an alleyway. Before he got out, however, he scanned the area for traces of Wally's heat signature.

Nothing recent.

 _'Good,'_ he thought, _'that means he'll likely be returning soon_. _'_

Climbing out of the Batmobile, Bruce silently climbed up a nearby fire escape. Once on the roof, he quickly surveyed the area below, just to make sure it was clear. He was right, the grass led around to the back of the lab, came right up to the back wall, and stopped...

Of course, Dick could've easily climbed or jumped up onto the roof without much effort being the acrobat he is, but he remembered from watching the team on missions that Wally had always had trouble running up walls.

Skeptical, he leaped down from his perch onto the lab roof. Approaching a skylight, Batman cut a small hole in the glass, listening intently for any action inside. Hearing nothing he picked the lock and opened it just enough to slip through.

Landing in a crouch on the concrete floor, he quickly slunk back into the shadows.

When felt concealed enough to really look at his surroundings, he started a bit. This wasn't at all what he'd been expecting. What had once been a reception area, had been converted into something entirely different.

He seemed to have landed in a bedroom, albeit a very plain one, in fact it almost reminded him of a barracks. It only had a simple bed, dresser, and desk. With only two other doors, one half open revealing it to be a closet, and the other most likely leading to a bathroom, it seemed the only way in or out of the room was through the skylight.

 _'Strange,'_ he mused, _'I'd expect this of Dick, but Kid Flash isn't particularly fond of climbing, so why would he make the only entrance and exit one he had to jump in and out of?'_

This was becoming a theme, so far this whole operation has been set up to cater to Dick's strengths, ironically, most of those being Wally's weaknesses.

Batman was getting frustrated, none of the pieces he found were fitting together, in fact they almost seemed to be pieces from entirely different puzzles.

There was little of interest in the room, however he did find an odd collection of objects sitting atop the desk, as if they were on display or something.

A watch, a necklace, a set of keys, a wallet, etc. none of them seemed particularly interesting, except their reason for being here as all of them were clearly not Wally's, unless...

Wally was the one who always collected souvenirs from the teams missions. These couldn't be...

Batman felt a wave of nausea overtake him and he had to turn his attention to something else.

Like what happened to the rest of the building? From the look of things the space the elevator had once occupied was now a bathroom, perhaps there was another way down?

A quick look at the bare floor revealed no obvious trap doors, so Batman moved on to study the furniture.

He was disappointed to discover that it was all bolted to the floor - the dresser, the desk, the bed... wait!

Taking a closer look, he discovered that not only was half of the bed not bolted to the floor, but the frame of the bed could be folded in half in order to reveal a locked trap door underneath.

 _'Finally,'_ he mentally sighed, _'progress.'_

Pulling a small laser from his belt he made quick work of the lock, which had clearly not been disturbed in a while judging from the even layer of dust on it.

Removing the lock, Batman attempted to open the trap door without making any noise.

*Screeeeeech*

He failed.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Batman paused to see if anyone would come running before jumping down through the hole and landing in a plain, badly lit hallway.

Well, if you didn't count the electricity, this part of the facility seemed to really be abandoned, but he was done trusting appearances.

He continued down the hall, stopping occasionally to check doors, all of which were locked, till he came to a dead end. Well, not exactly a dead end, before him stood a large, metal, maximum security door with a key pad to the left.

Batman went ahead and tried the door anyway, locked, no surprise there. Turning his attention to the key pad he found himself wishing Dick were here, or at least his glove with computer interfacing capabilities were here, one of them could get the job done a lot quieter than what he was about to do...

Pulling out an exploding Bat-a-rang he prepared to throw it at the key pad.

"Well, well, well... didn't expect to find you here."

Batman whipped around ready to let the weapon fly, but when he made to throw it he found it was no longer in his hand.

"Souviner," an all too familiar voice chirped in front of him.

Batman's lenses narrowed as he stared at the yellow clad figure in front of him, only to widen as he took in the blood staining the young man - Wally's - hands.

That's when it really hit him. Wally. This was Wally in front of him. Wally with innocent blood on his hands. Wally... the murderer.

The evidence had all been pointing toward him, hell Batman had gone out tonight intent on bringing him in, but...

He wasn't prepared for this.

This case wasn't just words on paper anymore. It was real, and he was about to put Wally, Dick's best friend, in prison for murder. It was different with Dick, that had happened so fast, he didn't really have time to think about what was happening until he was driving away from Arkham. He...

Was he really freezing up? _The_ Batman was freezing up before a fight?!

He tried to go numb, tried to think of the person before him as someone - _anyone_ \- else.

He couldn't.

He just _couldn't_.

He was the Goddamn Batman and he _couldn't_ take down a serial killer half his size just because he also happened to be his son's best friend?

This was pathetic, he had to-

*Slam*

- _'pay attention!'_ his mind screamed at him. He was so stuck in the past he couldn't focus on what was happening.

Wally had returned to his original spot, relaxing against the wall, twirling a knife in his hand.

Batman slowly rose up from the floor and assumed a defensive position, once again trying to look at his opponent as only that - his opponent.

Didn't work.

So instead he decided to go ahead and ask the one question he'd been wanting to ask since this whole mess started.

"Wally... why are you doing this."

Wally scoffed, "Wally? Who's that? Name's Renegade," he finished with a smile. "Thought you'd know that by now Bats."

Okay... that was unexpected.

Wally - Renegade? - followed up that declaration with a flip into a flying kick that Batman managed to break out of his musings long enough to dodge.

As... was that.

The _was_ Wally, Kid Flash, red hair, green eyes, freckles, and superspeed. So why was he attacking like Dick would? Like an acrobat would?

This was getting ridiculous. Nothing was making sense anymore. Batman wanted answers and he wanted them right now.

Wally tried to attack using one of Dick's signature moves, one Batman had taught him himself.

Bad idea.

Batman grabbed the boy's ankle and jerked him to the ground, Wally landed with a grunt. The Dark Knight flipped him onto his stomach and had him effectively pinned in seconds.

"Ugh! Get off of me!" Wally yelled as he struggled to throw of his much heavier captor.

"Wallace Rudolph West," Batman growled in his ear, "drop the act right now. What are you doing here? Why did you kill all those people?"

"I keep telling you my name's _Renegade_ , now let me go!" With that, the boy's struggling grew erratic and he began to vibrate. Still not enough to go through anything, but enough to make Batman slacken his grip.

As soon as he realized he could, Wally flew off the floor at record speed.

Batman leaped up, ready for another attack.

But none came.

Instead, he looked up to find Wally staring at his hands in disbelief. "W-what just happened?" he stuttered, seemingly talking to no one.

"You vibrated Wally, you do it all the time, it's part of your super speed." Batman supplied, not sure why Wally was so freaked out.

Wally's head jerked up in surprise, almost as if he'd forgotten anyone else was there.

"For the last time, my name is not _Wally,_ and I've _never_ done that before."

He looked panicked, his green eyes were wide and his breath was coming out in pants. This was good, he was off balance, now he would talk.

"Renegade?" the only acknowledgment he received was a small twitch from the shaking boy. "What is going on here, where are we?"

Slowly green eyes rose to meet white lenses. "I- I don't know. I came back and saw that someone clearly moved the bed and there was a hole in the floor I'd never noticed before, so I came to investigate."

"I see," Batman tried to keep his voice calm, it seemed to be working.

"What about the vibrating? Super speed?"

"Last week, I realized I could move, faster, than everyone else. I- I'd never done it before, I'm not even sure how it happened exactly."

Okay, something was definitely off there. One last question...

"Those moves, those acrobatic moves, where did you learn them?"

"W-what does that have to do with anything? I've known them since I was a kid." Wally said with far more confidence than before.

"Fine, but that's not what I asked. Where did you learn them? Who taught you?"

"Why does it matter!" Wally snapped.

Batman narrowed his eyes, "it matters because you don't know."

"Of course I do!" Wally yelled, his breathing and eye movements becoming even more erratic.

"Then it should be easy to tell me." The Dark Knight pressed, trying to keep his rising exasperation out of his voice.

"I- I- I learned them..." Wally's brow creased as he struggled to answer, "I-"

He started shaking his head and ringing his hands, something Bruce remembered Dick doing a lot recently, as he continued to try to stammer out a response.

"Wally?"

The redhead shot him a glare.

"Renegade," he corrected with a sigh, "just admit it, you don't remember do you?"

"I-" Wally looked helplessly at the ceiling, "I don't. I don't know how I learned those moves. I don't know why I can run so fast. I- I don't even remember- remember..." he trailed off into silence, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his temple against the wall.

Well... this was unexpected. Batman wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. Should he try and calm Wally down? Or was this all an act? But... no he seemed sincere, wait hadn't he thought that with Dick before too? Oh, why can't any part of this case be simple?! Why did their have to be so many layers? This was exhausting. He felt so tired. So...

Wait a minute. He wasn't tired. The hallway was filling up with gas.

Batman scrambled to get to his air filter, but it was too late. The gas was already affecting him. As blackness began to overcome his vision, the last thing he saw was Wally slowly sliding down the wall, his head lolling to the side.

* * *

Bruce slowly pulled himself out of the blackness. His head was pounding. He shifted slightly trying to gauge his situation. He was strapped down, to a chair judging by his position.

"Come now Batman, I know you're awake, drop the act."

Wait...

That voice wasn't Wally's. Batman opened his eyes, looking around for the red head.

He was right. He was strapped to a metal, surgical chair in the middle of the room. A significantly larger room than the one above ground; in fact this one actually seemed to be a working laboratory, complete with a catwalk for observation running around the ceiling where a second floor would be.

He could hear typing to his right. Turning his head he could see several computer monitors against the wall, with a rather large chair in front of them. Turning his head to the left he saw what appeared to be the same high security door from before, and just to the left of that...

Wally!

Still unconscious and strapped to a chair just like his from the look of things, but still very much alive and seemingly unharmed. The only difference in their bindings Batman could see was the menacing, wired headband keeping the young man's head firmly in place against the back of the chair.

"Who are you?" he growled, turning his attention back to the mysterious figure in the chair.

The person in question let out a low chuckle. "Who am I? Honestly, Batman I really thought you'd have figured it out by now. But, then again I suppose my plan was more cleaver than even I thought... Bruce."

Batman's heart skipped a beat. Who- How- What?! There were weren't very many heroes who know his secret identity let alone villains!

Unless... Dick or Wally had told them? But that was impossible! Wally clearly didn't remember who he really was, and Dick... well now that was possible.

"And before you jump to any conclusions, no, neither Richard nor Wallace told me who you are. I've known for quite a while. Of course I've yet to see the benefit of spreading that knowledge around so never fear, your secret's safe with me."

 _'Quite a while?'_ Okay that didn't leave many choices...

"But as interesting as it's been, I suppose it's time to remove the mask so to speak."

Slowly the chair spun around to reveal...

Hugo Strange

Batman's mind drew a blank, _'Dr. Strange? But, why? He wasn't a murderer, psychotic as he may be, he was a psychologist!'_

"Strange? What... how?"

"Well, it's a long story, but" he checked something on one of the computer monitors, "I suppose we have time."

"Working as a psychologist in Arkham, I meet a lot of, fascinating, people. People who have committed the most atrocious of crimes. Of course, all of them have their own back story, their own personal explanation of what drove them to such lives of crime. Some even have a few different ones, I believe you're familiar with some of the Joker's favorites?"

Batman narrowed his eyes.

"Yes," Strange smiled "and of course he's not the only one. Your dear friend Harvey Dent? Such a tragedy that was, and Mr. Freeze..."

"Get on with it Strange," Batman snapped, he was in no mood for tangents.

"Alright, alright," Strange huffed, "my my my, caged bats can be so testy can't they. Anyway, working with all these individuals, each with different explanations as to why they do what they do, I started wondering, what really makes a villain? Do they choose it for themselves or can simply giving a person the memories of a murderer be enough to turn a good person into a killer?"

He stopped to gauge Batman's reaction, getting none he continued.

"Well, first I had to manufacture some memories. So I wrote the objectives of the perfect serial killer onto a device that, in simple terms, alters the mind of the subject. It doesn't change their original personality, it simply creates new priorities for them to carry out in their own way."

Strange paused to let that sink in. Bruce was confused, _'so Dick was being mind controlled? But, J'onn didn't detect any outside influence.'_

"Once I had my program written, I converted it onto a chip. From there it was a simple matter of bribing our dear friend Mr. Crane, or Scarecrow as you call him, with the promise of escape if he'd kidnap Robin and plant the device in secret. After that I just had to wait for the murder reports to roll in. Once I was satisfied with the body count, it became a simple matter of changing the programing on the chip to set all priorities to killing you. I believe you know the rest." Strange finished, wearing a satisfied smile as he watched his captive's face for any signs of rare emotion.

For his part, Batman was doing an excellent job of keeping any of his inward struggles from showing on his face. He vaguely remembered that incident, but it had happened only a few months before all the trouble with Renegade had started so he'd practically forgotten about it. Scarecrow had kidnapped and tortured three members of the city council and Dick had gone out alone against Batman's orders. Bruce remembered his panicked search for two straight days before finding the boy, and the city council members, beaten and bloody in an abandoned warehouse near the docks.

But Dick had received thorough medical attention after that case, including several brain scans to check for a concussion which would've turned up any implants. Not to mention the scans Bruce had recently performed to specifically check for mind altering implants anywhere on his body.

"This... chip," he began, trying to keep the utter confusion out of his tone,"how did you manage to keep it's presence undetected by in-depth scans and mental probes?"

If Batman didn't know better he would swear that Strange had been taking smiling lessons from Cheshire with the look he was giving him.

"Ahh, yes, I was hoping you'd ask that. You see Batman, this chip I created isn't nearly as high tech as I think you believe it is, that's part of what made is so brilliant. The chip itself, because it isn't a mind control device, doesn't need to be actually planted in the mind of the subject. It only has to be close to the subject, for safety reasons I programed it with a very short range, so short the subject would literally have to be wearing it right next to their skin."

Batman's lenses widened slightly, realization beginning to dawn.

"Of course, I couldn't put such a sensitive piece of tech on any article of clothing. It had to be something that isn't frequently replaced, something only the subject would wear, and especially in this case, something dear Richard would never leave home without..." he trailed off, "can you guess what it is?"

Batman's lenses were blown wide by now, he could guess.

The belt.

Dick's _utility belt._

The one piece of their costumes that they rarely replaced, only Dick wore it, and the first thing Batman had ever taught him, he never left home without it.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. When Renegade first attacked him in the cave two years ago, he'd been wearing the belt. Bruce had ripped it off him shortly after he'd restrained the boy and thrown it somewhere in the cave. It must've been lost in the confusion of the follow-up investigation. Dick hadn't been wearing it during the follow-up exams from the Scarecrow case, nor had he been wearing it during Bruce's recent tests in the Batcave. J'onn wouldn't have detected any outside influences on his mind because without the belt on, and Strange's device in range, there wouldn't have been any outside influences on his mind. In fact, the next time Bruce had even seen the belt had been when Dick tried to strangle him...

... and he'd been holding the belt when he tried to strangle Bruce in the Batcave, that was what triggered the sudden personality change to Renegade.

It all made sense. The pieces were starting to come together, forming a truly horrific picture. Bruce couldn't even begin to process the myriad of emotions coursing through him, but the two main ones were obvious. Relief...

and guilt.

Relief that Dick, his son, really was innocent. He wasn't a murderer, at least not of his own free will.

And guilt. Guilt that _he_ had been so stupid and careless as to allow this to happen. Because of his negligence, his son had spent two years languishing in a prison built for criminals like the Joker.

And Bruce had put him there.

How- How _dare_ he call himself a father?

 _'Mary, John I'm so sorry,'_ he thought, _'I- I don't deserve your son. I-'_ he couldn't even think anymore his emotions were in full control of his mind, bringing it to a screeching stop.

"From the look on your face my dear Batman, I believe the truth has dawned on you?" Strange chuckled from his perch at the computers.

"The belt." Batman whispered, his throat too tight to say much more.

"Hmm, yes indeed. That was Scarecrow's idea you know? And a brilliant one at that. Well, after he revealed himself and attacked you I knew you'd have no choice but to put him away. You brought him right to me. With Richard as my patient I had free access to do what ever I thought best to 'cure' him. Of course, even I didn't think you'd leave your own son in Arkham Asylum for two years without even a visit, but I decided to cover my tracks anyway. Without the chip in his belt of course he believed he was innocent, but it didn't take long for the isolation, cold, and hunger to take effect and he willingly wrote his confession; which I took the liberty of sending to you. After that it only took a few months of electroshock therapy with me to create a split personality of 'Renegade' in the boy's head. That way if anyone ever did come back for him they'd simply write him off as insane. Continued treatment had his memory so unclear that he probably couldn't tell you about his killing spree or what had happened in that prison if he wanted to. The shocks conditioned him to associate those memories of Arkham and Renegade with unimaginable pain, so any time he even tried to remember anything he'd only end up with a magnificent headache."

 _'Well that sounds familiar,'_ Bruce thought back to J'onn's attempts to resurface Dick's memories as Renegade.

"Thus, unable to remember for himself, he was forced to accept anything I told him as fact." Strange finished his rant, looking terribly smug about everything. If Bruce wasn't still reeling from the onslaught of information he might've tried to attack the man despite the restraints.

"But," Batman paused to swallow, trying to get the lump out of his throat, "what about Kid Flash? How did you get access to him?"

"Wallace? Well, unlike you, young Wallace _didn't_ abandon his best friend to the welcoming walls of Arkham Asylum. Unfortunately for him, when he came to visit Richard he ended up playing right into my hands when I invited him to witness one of Richard's 'sessions.' He didn't suspect a thing."

"Where did you put the chip though?" Batman was surprised that he was still able to talk with this throat tightened up like it was.

"The chip? Well, that's simple. After Dick actually made the memories the device made a copy of them which I downloaded onto another chip, which I then planted in dear Wallace's temporal lobe, giving him the memories of 'Renegade'. However, there were some, unforeseen, complications. Renegade's memories didn't fuse properly with Wallace's resulting in Wallace actually believing he was Renegade, and when certain events, like his super speed manifesting and when you asked him how he learned Renegade's signature attack moves, clashed with that reality, his mind couldn't handle the conflicting stories so it... shorted out so to say."

"I can't believe it." Batman muttered, looking over at Wally, who was still unconscious in the chair. "So what are you going to do with him?"

"Well," Strange sighed, "the experiment is compromised sadly, and I'm afraid he's useless to me now. So I suppose all that's left is to clean up the evidence."

Batman's lenses widened.

"No no no, I'm not going to kill him. I'm not a murderer after all."

Under different circumstances, Bruce might've actually laughed at the irony of that statement.

"I'm merely going to make sure he can't go around blabbing about our little adventures to anyone else, wouldn't want any loose ends with incriminating evidence running around you understand? You wouldn't want me to lose my job as Arkham's head psychologist now would you?"

Batman growled as he watched Strange turn to a different computer monitor, raising the levels of what he realized was an electroshock machine. He was going to electrocute that boy till he was brain dead!

No.

He wouldn't let that happen. He'd already lost his own sidekick to this monster, he couldn't let Barry go through the same thing.

He had to think of a plan, he wouldn't let Wally suffer the same way Dick had, but how could he distract Strange long enough to find a way out of these restraints- wait!

Dick!

"What about Richard?" he asked, managing a fairly neutral tone that thankfully got the man to stop typing long enough to acknowledge him.

"What about Richard?"

"Well, you said you wanted to tie up loose ends, what about Richard?" As much as Batman hated to draw this psychopaths attention back to his son - no, he'd lost the right to call him that - his ward anymore than he had too, it was Wally's only chance. "Martian Manhunter's been working with him, and he says that with a little time he'll remember everything."

Okay so it was a small lie, but Strange's attention was completely focused on him for the time being.

Strange looked his captive up and down studying his expression for a moment before bursting out laughing.

"Hahahaha! Oh Batman, you really think you can fool me?!"

Batman stiffened, "what are you talking about?"

Strange took a moment to compose himself before his face settled back into that Cheshire grin from earlier.

"Batman, that chip of mine is still active, and I never altered the priorities from killing you."

"Yes." Bruce had kind of figured that out a while ago.

"And it also contains a tracking device."

"Yes..." he wasn't following, Dick was safe at home, sleeping in a cell in the Batcave.

"Well, it might interest you to know that according to this display," he indicated one of the other monitors, "our final loose end has been on his way here for the past half hour, and is now practically at our door."

This time Batman swore his heart really stopped.

Dick... here? How was that possible? And if the chip was tracking him then he must've been wearing the belt, he supposed it was possible for him to find it lying around the cave somewhere, but how did he get out of the cell in the first place?

Oh.

Alfred.

Alfred had made it quite clear how he felt about Bruce locking Dick in a cell. Bruce had left the manor so fast he hadn't had time to explain. If Dick had woken up without the belt, it wouldn't have been easy for him to convince Alfred with his - not completely fake - innocence and get Alfred to let him out. From there Dick would've wanted to come after Bruce in order to save Wally, and he wouldn't have left without the belt, which meant...

 _Renegade_ was on his way here.

Dick was on his way here.

Dick was about to walk right into a deadly trap.

He had to stop him, somehow he had to-

*BANG*

The double doors to Bruce's left blew open from the explosion with a thick cloud of smoke.

When the fog cleared, Bruce's worst fears were realized.

There stood Dick/Renegade in the doorway, knife in hand, wearing the same exercise pants and hoodie Bruce had left him in, but now he had his old domino mask secured over his eyes, and his belt, that stupid yellow belt, clipped securely around his waist.

Bruce fought to keep his expression calm as the two locked eyes, and a cold smile worked it's way across the former Robin's mouth.

"Well Batman, I've been waiting a _long_ time for this."


	11. It's a Long Story

POV: Renegade

Renegade couldn’t believe how easy this was turning out to be. He’d had no trouble following Batman straight to this isolated building, and when he’d arrived he didn’t even have to fight, Bruce was already nicely gift wrapped for him.

He smiled though he was almost disappointed at the lack of a challenge.

Almost.

Bruce had been focusing on something on the other side of the room when Renegade showed up, but he had his full attention now.

"Well Batman, I've been waiting a long time for this,” he purred as he took his time making his way toward his trapped prey.

“As have I Renegade,” sounded a familiar, male voice from somewhere above him.

Renegade’s head snapped up, his relaxed posture dissolving in seconds as he tensed into a defensive position.

“Who’s there?” he growled.

 _‘Where have I heard that voice before?’_ he thought.

“Honestly,” the voice sighed, “am I really _that_  forgettable?”

Renegade heard footsteps clanking heavily against a metal floor, seconds later a face that haunted his nightmares emerged from the shadows above him and came to the railing of the catwalk.

“Hello again, Renegade. I was so sad when you left Arkham without even saying goodbye. Most impolite I might add.”

Renegade didn’t relax, everything about that voice, this man, set him on edge. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t figure out why. Something about lightning?

He watched the man study him for a few seconds while Renegade tried to gather his severely fragmented memories into something coherent.

“Fine, seems my electroshock was a little too thorough,” the man grumbled, seemingly very put out that whatever dramatic reunion he had planned was being ruined. “Take off your belt Renegade.”

Renegade’s left hand twitched, without thinking he hurried to obey and unclipped the belt from his waist, letting it fall to the floor.

* * *

The change was instantaneous.

Dick’s eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings once again for the first time.

 _‘A warehouse? Why is it always a warehouse?’_ he wondered.

“Dick”

Dick’s head snapped to the side, where he was relieved to see Batman seemingly unharmed, but his unease returned when he took in the way he was bound.

“Batman? What’s going on here?” he tried to keep his voice as steady as his mentors, but wasn’t sure how well he succeeded.

He started to approach the chair so he could untie him but another noise, a groan, made him freeze in his tracks.

“Wally?!” he practically shouted.

His friend was restrained just like Batman, except for the thick metal band holding his head still. An unsettling sense of deja vu came over him as he took in the redhead’s bonds, and he suddenly felt a very strong urge to remove that headband.

Abandoning Batman for the time being he ran over to his friend’s side and reached for the velcro fastenings.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Dick froze.

That voice. He knew that voice.

“W-who’s there?” he called, his hands inches from Wally’s head.

“A friend,” the voice practically purred from somewhere behind him. “It’s nice to see you again Richard.”

Dick’s confusion was compounded by the strange sense of familiarity the voice triggered in the back of his mind. It was so familiar yet… distorted in some way, like a person you’d only ever spoken to over the phone was speaking to you in person for the first time.

“Do I know you?” he shouted again, getting more uncomfortable by the second.

“I’ll admit you got here a lot faster than I expected you would” the voice continued, ignoring his question.

“Here- Where-“ Dick started to ask but the voice cut him off.

“It’s a shame all our hard work didn’t lead to more fruitful results, but ‘sometimes a cigar is just a cigar’ as Freud was so fond of saying,” the voice continued to drone.

“What are you-“

“How is the voice Richard? Does it still bother you as much as it used to?”

Dick was silent. The voice? How could this person know about that, the only people he’d told were Bruce, Alfred, and-

“Strange?” he whispered.

“There you go Richard. It’s always nice to receive visits from my former patients. However, I can’t have anyone unexpectedly leaving before treatment is completed this time.”

He threw a pointed glare at Batman.

“So I rigged that machine to administer the treatment should any attempt to remove the subject be made, and once it's begun there's no stopping it until treatment is completed."

Dick honestly had no clue what to say. Feeling helpless, he slowly withdrew his hands from his still unconscious friend and backed away a few steps.

Strange smiled pleasantly at his actions. “Good boy,” he said and Dick felt a sick thrill of joy at the words.

Batman was being rather quiet he noted, internally he longed for the days when the two of them didn’t need to speak to know what the other was thinking. As it is, he glanced over at Batman as discreetly as he could.

To anyone else it would look like the Dark Knight had begrudgingly accepted his fate and was sitting calmly in his chair, but Dick could see how his right wrist was bent at a slightly different angle than his left as well as the small movements of his fingers.

Dick had to struggle not to let any of his relief show on his face. Bruce had everything under control, all Dick had to do was keep Strange’s attention off of him long enough for him to pick the lock.

' _Well, let's see if evil masterminds are as long winded as I remember'_

“So you’ve got me here, wherever this is, what’s next?”

* * *

(Bruce’s P.O.V)

In a less life threatening situation, Batman might’ve stopped to contemplate the irony that the man who was smart enough to fool him into thinking his son was a serial killer for two years was also stupid enough to forget to take his gloves.

The one-sided conversation between Dick and Strange fades into the background as he focuses on not drawing attention to himself while he picked the cuffs.

_Good job Dick. Keep him talking. Just a little bit more and..._

There was a small "click" as the pressure around his wrists lessened enough for him to slip his right hand out.

Casting a quick glance at Strange to make sure he wasn't looking - Dick had thankfully walked as far away from Bruce as he could without arousing suspicion causing Strange to turn his back - he reached down and swiftly picked the lock on his ankles as well.

Making sure Strange was still enthralled with listening to himself talk, he silently rose from the chair and made his way to Wally. Bruce knew without a doubt the first thing Strange would do if he caught sight of his escape was kill Wally. So as much as he wanted to make sure Dick was safe, Wally was his first priority.

Wally hadn't regained consciousness since they arrived, but a quick check of his vitals didn't reveal any evident damage, well apart from the obvious being infused with the mind of a serial killer. Remembering Strange's warning Bruce took a moment to locate the power controls on the chair and swiftly turned them off. With the danger of setting off the machine removed, he safely unlocked Wally's restraints without much difficulty, though he struggled a bit with the head strap, and moved him gently from the chair to the floor. He started to sink back into the shadows, skirting around the corners of the room until he found a staircase up to the catwalk where Strange was _STILL_ talking.

Two years.

Two torturous years Dick had languished in Arkham, and Bruce had languished in his own personal form of prison.

Two years.

Two years of their lives they could _never_ get back.

And it was all thanks to this man. This evil, _evil_ man. It was almost difficult for Bruce to wrap his mind around how one person could bring about such suffering and almost get away with it.

 _'But he didn't,'_ he thought, _'he almost did, but I'm here now. Dick's not alone this time. I'm here now and I'll be damned if I let this madman hurt him one more time.'_

Batman swept silently over the top step of the stairs, just in time it seemed as Strange appeared to be coming to the end of his gloating.

He had been concentrating so much on remaining undetected as he climbed up to the catwalk that he lost sight of Dick. Once he came up behind Strange he could see over Strange's shoulder and make out Dick's face, eyes wide with horror as he listened to the full story of his transformation from the villain's perspective.

"So... the voices, they weren't, I mean _you_ were..." Dick stumbled over his words, even though Bruce had explained everything he knew about what had happened to him, Dick was still understandable shocked at hearing the whole story directly from the vermin responsible.

"That's right Richard, you're not insane, you never were." Strange's back was turned, he didn't notice the dark shadow now looming directly behind him.

Not this way. He'd been forced to see the sick victory in Strange's eyes when he thought he'd won, and he wanted to see those same eyes overcome with defeat when it all fell apart.

"It's been fun my dear Richard, but I'm afraid you've all outlived your usefulness." With that, he held up a detonator he must've hidden in his lap coat.

That was as far as he got.

* * *

 

Before Strange had a chance to do anything more, Bruce slammed into him from behind with all his strength, causing the rusty railing to give and sending them both toppling over the edge.

They hit the ground, still tangled, with a great thud. Strange lost his grip on the detonator and it skittered off a little ways away. Batman took a hard elbow to the chin as they both scrambled blindly for it.

The usually collected hero and villain both seemed to lose it as they fought over the detonator. Both seeing red as they each reached for the tool that for one meant the death of their son, for the other the death of their labors. They had one thing in common though, neither one was willing to let the other one have it, and Bruce was coming dangerously close to crossing some lines to ensure that fact.

Unfortunately, one of Strange's flailing hands finally found purchase on one of Batman's ears. With surprising strength, the villain yanked the cowl hard enough to pull Bruce off of him, pulling the cowl off in the process.

If Bruce had been thinking clearly, he probably would've been concerned that his mask had just been removed so easily, he probably would've been calculating how many possible surveillance devices were in the building, and he defiantly would've been thinking of what adjustments Alfred will need to make to his cowl.

But he wasn't thinking clearly. He was too focused on the madman who, in the split second he was distracted, was now holding the detonator.

No.

_No._

Something snapped inside Bruce's mind.

He didn't move, but he was on top of Strange.

He didn't open his mouth, but his voice was yelling.

He didn't attack Strange, but his fists were bloody.

And their was only one thought in his mind...

I'm going to _kill_ him. I'm going to _kill_ this son of a bitch.

His fists continued to fly. He probably couldn't have stopped them even if he tried.

He didn't try.

He didn't want to.

He felt calm. Nothing like one would expect to feel while beating a man, a _monster_ , to death.

He was calm.

He was beating a man to death.

And he was calm.

* * *

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick was scared.

Plain and simple, he was scared.

He'd watched Bruce tackle Strange over the railing, watched the two struggle madly over the detonator, watched Strange yank off Batman's cowl, and now he was standing awkwardly over to Wally waiting for his mentor to finish subduing Strange.

But Bruce wasn't stopping. Strange's face was practically unrecognizable, the floor underneath him splattered with blood, but Bruce just kept on punching.

"B-Batman?" he called out tentatively, unsure of what he should call the man now that his face was exposed. He looked into his eyes, and it scared him.

Bruce almost never smiled, and his eyes naturally held a stoic, almost cold look to them. But this... this was more anger, more rage, more... hatred than he'd ever seen.

"Batman?" he tried again with a bit more volume. He was getting worried, Bruce was still reigning down blows, and he showed no signs of stopping. Was he trying to-

 _He's trying to kill him!_ He realized in a panic.

"B-Batman! Batman! BRUCE!" he shouted, starting to run over to his mentor's side.

"Bruce! Bruce STOP!" He grabbed a gloved fist, trying desperately to hold it back.

Bruce jerked around to face him, his eyes filled with nothing but black fury and Dick had to suppress his initial instinct to flinch away.

"Bruce that's enough! You're gonna kill him!" Dick pleaded, shaking the man as he did.

But it seemed Bruce was too far gone, "No Dick," he growled, every word dripping with venom, "for what he did, he deserves to die."

He tried to pull back for another strike, but Dick held firm.

"Bruce _listen_ to yourself, you're not thinking straight," Dick shook him again for emphasis.

But Bruce's eyes didn't lose their dark determination.

"Goddamn it Bruce you're _Batman_! You're better than this, _stronger_ than this! Don't... don't kill him Bruce. It's- I'm not worth it." He finished quietly, having run out of air during his little speech. He hadn't even meant to say that last part. He'd meant to say " _he's_ " not worth it but somehow the word got mangled in his desperation.

When he overcame the brief shock of his freudian slip he looked up to find Bruce staring at him, and he saw his own surprise reflected in Bruce's eyes.

"Bruce?" he asked softly, the large room feeling all too quiet after so much noise. "Bruce are you-"

He was cut off by the feeling of strong arms on his shoulders, the intensity in Bruce's eyes forcing him to hold eye contact.

"Richard," he began, his voice firm "don't ever say you're not worth it. You mean more to me than you could ever know."

Dick couldn't do much more than nod shakily at his mentor's rare display of emotion, but Bruce seemed to know all the unspoken emotion and gratitude within the gesture.

Looking down at the now barely recognizable face of Dr. Hugo Strange, Dick could feel the tension slowly seep out of his mentor's body. Any traces of his former rage were gone now, leaving only total exhaustion in its wake.

Fearing that Bruce would collapse if they stayed there much longer, Dick rose to his feet before offering a hand to his mentor.

"Come on Bruce, leave him to the police."

Although he could sense his unease at letting the madman out of his sight again, Bruce accepted his hand and wearily pulled himself to his feet as well.

On the way out Dick put in an anonymous call to Gordon about where to find Strange, as well as promising that Batman would be by soon to explain. While Dick was on the phone, Batman got the thankfully still unconscious Wally strapped into the passenger side of the Batmobile.

Once Wally was secured and they could hear police sirens approaching in the distance, Dick mounted his bike and followed the Batmobile back to the cave. Back home, he thought, and a light, free feeling rose in his chest.

Hope.

* * *

(Bruce's P.O.V)

Bruce had never felt so exhausted. Honestly, if Dick hadn't been there he probably would've just passed out in that warehouse.

Dick.

The boy was sitting in the med bay of the Batcave next to a resting Wally. Upon their return to the Batcave Bruce and Alfred had administered a stronger sedative to the sleeping redhead. With the help of what Strange told him, as well as the technology available in the cave the two were able to remove the chip from Wally's brain without much difficulty. Afterwards, Dick had assisted Alfred in bandaging Wally's head and ever since he'd refused to leave his friend's side despite both Bruce and Alfred's urges for him to rest.

Of course, under normal circumstances, today's fight wouldn't have drained him this much. But, Bruce had also just gotten off the phone with a positively enraged crimson-clad speedster who spent the last 24 hours fighting his way through intergalactic security to get back to Earth so he could "take care of his nephew and then personally fling Bruce into the speed force for hanging up on him like he did."

Needless to say between psychopaths, family members, and speedsters Bruce was ready to call it a day.

"WHERE IS HE?!" A scarlet blur yelled upon emerging from the elevator at the top of the stairs into the Batcave.

Make that _very_ ready to call it a day.

"He's in the medical bay Flash, and please lower your voice," Bruce answered as he nodded to Alfred who had also come down, and was carrying a tray with three steaming mugs of coffee.

Bruce wasn't surprised when Barry didn't stop to say hello, and instead ran right to his nephew's side. Dick must've been really out of it because he jumped violently when the Flash appeared beside him. Bruce was too far away to hear their brief greeting but saw Dick rise and offer Barry the chair he had been in before coming over to Bruce and Alfred to get coffee.

"Thanks Alfred." He took one of the mugs, and enjoyed a long sip. "When's Leslie getting here?"

Bruce checked the time display on the computer. It was a little past 4 AM, about thirty minutes since he'd asked Alfred to call her.

"She just arrived at the gate. Shall I escort her down, Sir?" Alfred replied, turning to Bruce for confirmation.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, vainly trying to alleviate his headache for what felt like the hundredth time that night, "yes Alfred, thank you."

Alfred left with a nod and the cave was blissfully quiet for about three minutes until the butler returned with the aforementioned doctor carrying a large medical bag close behind.

"Bruce?" Leslie approached the exhausted father first only to be waved off.

"Thank you for coming Leslie, the boys are over there," he said indicating the huddled trio in the medical wing. "I'm fine really, just a slight headache," he added when she continued to stare at him with a disbelieving expression.

After a slight pause Leslie fished out a small pill bottle out of her bag and walked over to where the two speedsters and Dick were situated.

"Take two of those, they won't make you drowsy and they're stronger than over the counter headache medication," she called over her shoulder as she went.

Bruce would've smiled if he didn't feel so awful, so instead he nodded gratefully as he washed the pills down with some of Alfred's coffee. He sighed happily when he felt the medication start to ease his pounding skull almost immediately.

He stood up from his chair and took a moment to stretch his protesting back before walking over to join everyone else around Wally’s bed.

* * *

(Dick's P.O.V)

Dick sensed more than heard Bruce come up behind him so he was prepared for the hand that appeared on his shoulder.

"How's he doing?" Bruce's deep voice rumbled from behind him.

"He's just starting to come around," Dick responded not taking his eyes off his friend while the doctor checked his vitals. Bruce had given the redhead a mild sedative when they reached the cave to keep him quiet until his uncle could arrive.

"Good, and what about you?"

Dick mentally sighed at the question. He was worried about his friend, concerned for both of their futures, and above all else tired. No, make that exhausted, but not the kind he'd been expecting.

He remembered this feeling from back in his Robin days, from when he and Batman, or he and the team, would spend weeks or months fighting an unseen foe, thwarting scheme after scheme before finally realizing the bigger picture. Then spend even more time planning and preparing to take down the whole operation once and for all. He remembered it from after those final battles, it would set in during the aftermath; once everyone's wounds had been attended to and things were beginning to quiet down.

It was exhaustion, but not the kind that came with a sense of helplessness or failure. It was the kind that came with a sense of finality, or calm.

"Wally?"

Barry's voice cut through Dick's musings and Dick looked down to see the redhead starting to stir, slightly squeezing his uncle's hand from where it was intertwined with his own beside him.

Wally's face began to contort slightly from its restful position and he groaned softly before his eyelids began to raise to reveal a pair of familiar bright green eyes.

"Ugh wha- where? U-uncle Barry?"

"Shh," Barry soothed taking the water bottle Dr. Tompkins handed him and opening it to hold to his nephew's lips. While Wally gratefully took long sips of the proffered drink Barry took the opportunity to brush the teen's unruly red hair off his forehead, minding the halo of bandages wrapped snuggly around his head.

"Mmm-" Wally turned his head away to signal that he was done with the water.

"Uncle Barry where are we? What's going on?" His eyes were rapidly losing their sleep-induced haze and a sharp urgency was taking over.

Uncle Barry looked from his nephew to Dick who moved forward into Wally's line of sight. Upon noticing them Wally seemed both comforted and agitated.

"Hey Wally" Dick said softly unable to help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Dick?" A hopeful look lit up Wally's face, his disorientation at the situation momentarily forgotten at the sight of his best friend out of Arkham and seemingly free. "How are you doing? Did your dad finally pull his head out of his ass and realized how stupid-"

Wally cut off as Bruce chose that moment to come forward as well.

"Umm... heh uh" Wally's face slowly colored to rival his hair under the weight of Bruce's gaze and he shot a pleading look at his uncle for help.

"What's the last thing you remember Kid?" Barry interjected, glancing over his own shoulder at Bruce with his own glare that threatened ' _leave my kid alone or else.'_ Bruce, having witnessed first hand the terrifying force that was an overprotective Flash, wisely chose to stifle his (somewhat-unintentional) bat-glare.

"I... um... I remember going to Arkham to visit Dick and his... doctor? I think? Yeah, he told me that Dick was in some important treatment and he had something he wanted to ask me about, or something to show me, or... or maybe he needed my help? I- I don't really remember anything after that," he admitted looking up at his uncle and the bat. "Why? What happened?"

Barry took his nephew's hand in his own once again before turning to Bruce beside him. Bruce averted his gaze as he did, too tired to come up with exactly how to break the news.

Slowly Dick worked his way out of Bruce's hold and moved around to the other side of Wally's bed, sitting carefully at the foot of it. He ran a hand through his raven hair as he took a deep breath and smiled at his friend.

"Well, it's a long story, and I'm honestly not sure if it really has a good ending- or an ending at all really- but don't worry," he took a moment to gauge his friend's reaction. Wally's face was a mixture of emotions but the most prominent of which was a nervous apprehension that manifested itself in his tight nod and hesitant "go on."

Dick swallowed, glancing at his adopted father for support and taking comfort in his encouraging nod before continuing.

"Okay, well what do you know about a man named Hugo Strange?"

* * *

_Fin_

 


	12. Epilogue: Who Are You Now

_Six months later..._

Bruce walked down the hall of Wayne manor toward Dick's room. It had been a long six months. The road to recovery had been full of complications, not the least of which had been explaining the whole fiasco to not only the Justice League but the team as well.

To say they did not take it well would be the understatement of the year considering that their were numerous motions to ban both Dick and Wally from hero work ever again, and a few more that wanted to ban Bruce and Barry as well. It took weeks of meetings, proposals, testimonies and paperwork to get to the agreement they had now, which was still subject to change at a moments notice.

Basically, Bruce and Barry had been acquitted of any wrong doing as the league, prompted largely by Green Arrow and Wonder Woman, agreed that it was unfair to hold a hero responsible for a rogue sidekick (and vice-versa should the situation ever arise). As for Wally and Dick, once all the evidence regarding Dr. Strange's mind control had been submitted, and reviewed an exhausting number of times, the league was also ready to clear their names as well, provided that Batman formulated contingency plans to be approved by the league should this ever happen again. Superman had commented that  _asking_ Batman to create contingency plans was something he never thought he'd have to do.

However, with the league on their side, dealing with the non-hero population became a bit easier. It helped that the "Rogue Robin" story had been kept largely under wraps two years ago and Kid Flash's name had never been publicly released in connection with the recent murders. As promised, four days after the fight in the warehouse atman had a long discussion with Commissioner Gordon about both the murder cases. Gordon seemed more than happy to accept the evidence of Dr. Strange's guilt, and admitted that he'd always had trouble accepting Robin's fall to the dark side, but at the time the case against him had been to solid to continue refuting. He took Batman by surprise however when he asked if Robin was going to make a return to hero work once he'd recovered, mostly because in that moment Batman realized that he actually didn't know what Dick was planning on doing with the Robin mantle. He'd told the Commissioner that Robin was undergoing intensive therapy in order to work through the abundant non-physical wounds this whole ordeal had left on him, but when he was ready, Batman would broach the subject to him and notify the Commissioner of his decision.

That was the reason Bruce wanted to talk to Dick this morning. According to J'onn and Dinah, he was showing signs of great improvement in his sessions with both of them, and both Bruce and Alfred had been quietly taking note of his gradually improved demeanor and eating habits. So perhaps it was time to talk about the future.

Bruce knocked softly on his son's door.

A startled "come in" was heard, accompanied by the crinkle of papers as Bruce opened the door to find Dick sitting at his desk with an almost comical amount of crumpled notebook paper scattered around him.

"You know Alfred would have a heart attack if he saw this room right now," Bruce noted overlooking the mess.

Dick smiled sheepishly, as if he too had just noticed the sheer volume of the crumpled white balls as well. "Yeah, he probably would. I'll be sure to clean it up when I'm done though."

Bruce closed the door behind him and moved to sit on the bed behind Dick's desk chair, noticing for the first time yet another sheet of paper in front of Dick. It looked like there was something drawn on it but Dick's arm had been placed over the center so Bruce couldn't tell what it was.

"What are you working on?" he asked only to feel a twinge of regret when Dick lowered his eyes and seemed to sadden at the question.

"Well..." he paused as if he was trying to work out exactly how he wanted to phrase his next words, Bruce just waited patiently. "I talked to Wally over the phone yesterday, and he says that he thinks he's done with the hero thing. He says he just can't put that costume on anymore without thinking about what happened."

Bruce's eyes widened slightly, yes he figured that both boys would want to take a break from the hero life, but somewhere in his subconscious he must've just assumed that at some point they would both want to return to their mantles. "What does Artemis think about all this?" He knew that the two had been pretty serious before this whole incident, but had been a little preoccupied with Dick's recovery to keep up on how it had affected their relationship.

"According to Wally, she feels the same way. Apparently they've been talking about settling down and going to college or something, but nothing's concrete yet."

Bruce nodded, while he was happy that the young couple's relationship had clearly emerged from this trial stronger than before, he was reminded of the night Dick had finally made an attempt to reconnect with Zatanna, only to find that whatever they had had before was gone. Bruce remembered how Dick had assured him that he was fine and that it wasn't a big deal, but he could tell that that rejection had put a serious doubt in Dick's mind that anyone would ever be able to love him again because of his past. Both Bruce and Alfred had been desperately doing anything they could think of to convince him that that was in no way true, but while Dick had outwardly projected an air of nonchalance regarding the problem, everyone who knew him well enough could see that it still deeply bothered him. However, there was one silver lining. In the six months that Batman had been devoting a greater amount of time to Dick a new hero had sprung up in the form of Batgirl. It didn't take long for Bruce to figure out that her true identity was Barbra Gordon, the commissioner's daughter. She regularly showed up when Batman went out on patrol and thus far the two had worked well together, well enough that Bruce was seriously considering extending an invitation to join not only the team, but the Batfamily as well. If nothing else, perhaps she could reach Dick in a way that Bruce and Alfred hadn't been able to, but it was really too early to be thinking about that.

"So what are your thoughts on that? Are you thinking about retiring as well?"

Dick took a moment to think, glancing down at the paper still hidden under his arm. "I'm glad Wally's found a way to move on, and I'm glad he'll have Artemis with him while he does, but..."

"But?" Bruce prompted after Dick trailed off.

"But I don't think that would work for me, retirement that is," he met Bruce's gaze, a quiet determination in his eyes. "Bruce I've been doing this since I was nine. I don't think I can give it up permanently and not go crazy. That said, I am done being Robin."

He paused for a moment to let that sink in before continuing. "Wally's right, that costume's been tainted. I'm never going to be able to call myself Robin again without thinking about what happened. I've been Robin since I was nine so... I was thinking it might be time for an update." He smiled as he took the paper he'd been working on out from under his arm and handed it to Bruce.

It was a new costume design, almost startlingly different from his old one. No cape for starters, and the only color present besides black was in the form of a bright blue bird across the chest. All in all, Bruce could see the idea Dick was going for with it. It was darker and more mature in contrast to the almost innocent youthfulness of the colorful Robin costume, which reflected the change in Dick post-trauma rather well. However, it wasn't completely eaten up with darkness, the blue bird on the chest stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the outfit, holding back the blackness in an almost hopeful way.

Hope. Because that's what their lives had become about, what they'd always been about in some ways. Hope that no matter what happened in the past, or how dark the present is, or how obscure the future may seem they can still move forward.

"So what do you think?"

Bruce smiled at his son, "I think it's perfect, but obviously this isn't a Robin"

It was Dick's turn to smile, "No, it's not."

"So who are you going to be now?"

Dick's smile grew a little wider, and when he spoke his voice had an edge of excitement to it.

"Well, I've always kinda liked the name Nightwing."

 

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the actual ending - took me long enough I know ;) But I hope it leaves everyone feeling satisfied. It's still funny to think that this whole story started out as a one-shot made up of the prologue and first chapter. Now that we've reached the end I want to take the time to thank all of my readers and offer a special thank you to all of you who took the time to review, your words of encouragement and comments were all very touching and I cherish them all.


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